Bound
by Does Not Compute
Summary: Fanfic based on the HOTU campaign. A mage is missing in Waterdeep and Tristin Falke has answered the call to find him, little does she know that it is the Relic's power that has driven her to the City of Splendors. She is bound to carry out it's purpose.
1. Prologue

_**Author's Note:** I own nothing except the PC, the main plot points and all the characters belong to Bioware. Reviews and ratings always welcome._**  
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**Prologue**

She regained consciousness face down on the floor of a cavernous chamber, her left cheek was pressing down on the cool stone beneath her and her body felt numb. She opened her eyes to find her vision was blurred, she could barely make out the shapes of the flickering torches ensconced on the surrounding walls. She thought she heard tinkling of chimes somewhere, though her pulse was pounding so hard inside her head that for a time all she could hear was the frantic beating of her heart. She didn't know where she was yet nor did she remember her name but those memories would come to her shortly.

She propped herself up off the floor, still weak, and rolled over on her back. The room started to spin. She tried blinking the motion away but it only made things worse. Finally she closed her eyes and concentrated on leveling her ragged breathing instead. Slowly, she felt the nausea ebb back and the loud drumming of her pulse slow down, the delicate chiming was echoing through the chamber more clearly, she could think now. _My name is Tristin Falke_, she affirmed to herself, _and I seem to have died._

"Welcome back Sojourner." a sonorous, yet familiar voice greeted her.

Tris snapped her head to the location of the speaker, a foolish move, for it sent her vision spinning again. She felt the acid taste of bile in her mouth again and just in time rolled on her side to expel the contents of her stomach onto the floor beneath her. Surprisingly she felt better and after wiping the last of the spittle from the corners of her mouth, she finally pushed herself off the floor to sit up and turned her gaze on the speaker.

The Reaper - that was the name she had given to the creature the first time she met it, but after learning what its purpose was she admitted the moniker didn't fit. The Keeper-of-Doors would have been a more appropriate title, though her misplaced perception of that first encounter forever cemented Tris's title for the keeper of this plane.

"Sorry about the mess," she said with a slur to her speech as she had not yet regained the full faculties of her motor skills "I take it I have died."

The Reaper nodded his hooded head in agreement. He always wore a long and unadorned robe that covered his entire being save for the pair of large leathery wings protruding from his back. A pair of pale yellow glowing orbs that were its eyes were visible beyond the hood that covered his face, offering a hint to his ancestry. The Reaper stood silently, as he always did, waiting on Tris, his robes gently swaying on the currents of air that circulated around the chamber.

"I need to get back to where I died." she said after a moment of consideration.

There was a moment of hesitation as the Reaper considered what to say. "I'm afraid I cannot do that Sojourner." he finally replied. There was no malice in his denial but his refusal stunned her nonetheless for the Reaper never before refused.

Tris furrowed her brow in confusion "I have the rogue stones required to power the spell," she began to protest, but the reaper raised his arm to quiet her.

"Mephistopheles forbade it." was all the explanation he offered.

She remembered then; the siege of Lith My'athar, her meeting with the Valsharess and the final confrontation with Mephistopheles that landed her here. She remembered now the devil's admission that the Relic she carried belonged to him and that his servitude to the foolishly ambitious drow was all a ruse, part his elaborate plan to conquer Toril.

Suddenly angry at having been played the fool she lashed out at the Reaper, "You work for him!"

"Not by choice," was the Reaper's reply, "he sealed his command by the power of my true name."

True Name. Tris understood then what it meant and how impossible her request sounded to the Reaper. She knew that the true name had power far greater than a geas, for it bound you to your duty even beyond death. She sat on the dais that acted as the summoning circle to the Reaper's realm and looked at her host. She felt a sudden kinship and understanding with this creature for she still remembered the unbearable pull and tug of Halaster's geas. She examined her inner being and cautiously conjured up a rebellious thought that went against the mage's wishes. She felt nothing then and closed her eyes, releasing a barely audible sigh of relief. Halaster's geas was gone with the Valsharess's passing.

She opened her eyes and looked at the Reaper again, suddenly regaining a measure of determination. "How do I get back to Toril?"

The Reaper studied the girl in front of him and the range of emotions that passed through her face as she learned the truth about his servitude to Mephistopheles: betrayal, pity, relief and finally determination, peppered by an underlying hint of fury. For the first time in the long centuries of his existence he felt - if creatures of his kind could feel - that perhaps this tiny human had power enough to defeat the Archduke of Cania. Why else would Mephistopheles banish her to his domain other than to ensure that she could not interfere with him on Toril? Even the Reaper knew that Mephistopheles' powers were greatly diminished outside his realm. The Reaper longed to rid his own existence of Mephistopheles' meddlesome presence and in this girl in front of him he saw enough rebellious determination that could finally unravel the Archduke's machinations. A plan formulated in the Reaper's mind to set the girl on the path back to Toril even if he himself could not directly help her. After all, there was nothing in Mephistopheles' command that forbade him to talk.

"There is a way for you to return to the prime plane Sojourner," he admitted, "but the path lies through Cania."

Some measure of hope returned to Tris and she looked to the Reaper to explain further.

"There is a being that resides in the frozen wastes, far older than you or me, or even Mephistopheles: The Knower-of-Names. Find her and learn from her my true name. Return to me with this knowledge and your command will have the power to break Mephistopheles' hold over me."

Tris shook her head in frustration; she had no time to embark on another fool's errand while her friends and countless other innocents were in danger. She was sure that finding the Knower-of-Names would prove to be a quest of needle in a haystack proportions and she has had enough being everyone's errand girl.

"Can't you just tell me your true name yourself?" There was a hint of anger in her desperate plea and something in her insolent tone greatly offended the Reaper. In one sweeping motion he stooped down to look directly in her eyes and for the first time Tris could glimpse the ugly outline of the visage that hid behind the hood.

"A true name is a gift, Sojourner, not to be given lightly!" He roared with sudden emotion. "What can you offer me in return for this endowment that would remotely compare to its value!"

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither one of them wanting to take their gaze off, finally the Reaper rose up again and looked off into the distance, remembering a time when he was free of his servitude to the Archdevil. His voice became hollow and distant, he almost sounded tired.

"Mephistopheles stole my true name in the same manner that I offer you now for the sole promise that you would return here and undo his curse with a curse of your own. So no I will not tell you my true name, when it was stolen from me so was my will broken to give it freely."

Finally convinced of the girl's compliance with his plan he moved to one of the dormant portals in the room. "Come Sojourner," he said at length "Cania awaits and Mephistopheles will not put his plans of conquest on hold just to await your return."

Tris suddenly remembered Mephistopheles' earlier promise before he sent her here and an involuntary shudder left her spine, she fished out a rogue stone from the pouch hanging off her belt and tossed it to the Reaper. He deftly caught it in his hand and held it in front of the portal. He spoke the arcane words to activate it and a burst of light filled the place, momentarily chasing the perpetual shadows away. It dimmed just as fast to reveal a vast snowy wasteland beyond the now open doorway.

Tris rose to her feet and approached the portal, her tired feet shuffling along the stone. A wicked blizzard was brewing beyond the light and the winds kept sweeping in the snow into the chamber. She felt a chill she hasn't felt before, a cold so desperate that it chilled her beyond her bones and grabbed a hold of her core being. A feeling of great defeat suddenly threatened to overwhelm her and she sunk to her knees at the base of the doorway. She sat there with shoulders slumped, one hand gripping the frame for support and she wondered why the fates kept toying with her and throwing her in the path of unyielding destiny. She felt tired and helpless in the face of the odds that always seemed to stack against her.

She stared out at the frozen wasteland and considered the recent events that led her to this moment, hoping to find some memory that would help her regain some measure of strength to continue her arduous journey.


	2. Harpers

Ajax circled in a wide arc high above the valley of the Nether Mountains, gliding on the winds that danced in the sky. The falcon's eyes did not miss much and soon the majestic bird spotted an elven rider picking his way through a wooded trail far to the south. The bird did another circuit of a figure eight as it memorized the rider's location and then broke off toward the rocky slopes of the nearest mountain.

Tris saw Ajax approach and extended her arm, the one that wore a falconer's heavy glove, to offer a perch for the oncoming bird. Ajax slowed his descent by shifting his wings and as he came in on top of her outstretched arm his talons firmly gripped her wrist and he came to a rest folding his wings at his sides.

Tris stroked his breast with the back of her index finger, admiring her feathered friend. She looked into his chestnut colored eyes and emphatically projected her thoughts to him.

"What have you spied for me friend?" she murmured softly knowing that the bird understood her perfectly.

Ajax let out a short squawk, playfully snapping his beak at her finger. _Visitor_, she felt the bird project, and in her mind's eye she saw the memory of the elven rider picking his way through the wooded trail. She recognized the face and sighed wistfully "I guess there is no place on Toril that would shelter me if the Harpers really needed to find me." She extended her arm out again and let Ajax fly off and do Ajax things. She had a visitor after all, and needed time to prepare a welcome.

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><p>She heard his footsteps on the gravel below her campsite some time later that day. He made no effort to mask his approach for he knew she was aware of his presence long before he started his ascent up the mountain. He pushed aside the thick brush that hid the lofty sanctuary away from prying eyes to reveal the campsite.<p>

A shallow cave, serving as shelter, looked out over the valley. Alpine firs flanked the clearing in front of the cave and a jackrabbit was roasting over a small fire out front. The young woman he came here looking for stood by the cliff side with her back towards him, arms folded in front of her, looking out towards the valley below. She wore a fine woodsman's leather armor that complimented her feminine features nicely. A heavy cloak was draped over her shoulders to keep out the chill of the alpine air. Her golden-blond locks, which she kept trimmed shoulder length, were neatly gathered in a braid behind her and held fast by a simple leather strap. He noted too that a full traveling pack was resting by one of the fireside stumps. Her longsword, sheathed in a simple scabbard, and longbow were resting beside it. It was obvious that the woman was ready to leave this sanctuary.

"You are a hard woman to find Tristin Falke." he said as he entered the campsite.

She turned her head to regard him and met his gaze with her icy blue, almost gray, eyes; eyes that masked behind them great wisdom, uncharacteristic of a woman only twenty three winters old. "Yet here you are Leland." she answered with a hint of a mischievous smile forming on her thin lips. She wasn't beautiful but her olive-shaped face was well proportioned; high cheekbones complimented a noble nose that sloped in a straight line. Her deep set eyes were framed by a set of voluminous long lashes and high arching brows. A finely chiseled jaw-line and her stoic look gave her an air of determination. The way she carried herself gave a hint to her noble parentage. He approached her then and she fully turned and closed the distance between them. They clasped their arms in friendship and shared an embrace of companions that have not seen each other in a long while.

She pulled back at arms length and examined him fully again. The elf wore his black hair long, as most elves do, he was shorter than her by a full head. He wore leather armor on his slender form and his well-worn boots have seen much travel. His cloak was held together by a harp-shaped pin, a telltale sign that he was a Harper.

There was a time when Tristin considered joining the ranks of the Harpers and perhaps would have made a fine addition to the organization. That desire greatly diminished following the events in the Anauroch Desert. When the Harpers offered her a seat on their council she respectfully declined, she had decided that for all the good the Harpers had done for the world, in the end they were just delaying the inevitable - all the goodly races of Toril were headed for the same chaotic end as the Netheril Empire. She had read the history books in Drogan's library - riddled with stories of ambitious men falling to their hubris, and had seen the effects of unchecked ambition within the ruins of Undertide. She has had enough of trying to change the world (or was she trying to keep it the same?) and she paid dearly for her efforts four years ago - Master Drogan was gone, and so was Dorna and Xanos. She missed them all, she admitted, even Xanos and his bullheaded arrogance.

She kept in contact with the Harpers nonetheless, occasionally taking on various tracking commissions. The Harpers paid well for her work, the ever practical Dorna would have been proud of her.

After a moment of silent regard Tris motioned to the campfire and the jackrabbit roasting above it. "Will you join me?" she asked.

Leland nodded his thanks and moved to follow her. They sat in silence for a while enjoying the meal, finally Leland grew restless and wanted get to the purpose of his visit. He broke the silence with an innocent query "How's Ajax?"

As if on cue, the bird in question appeared from the western sky, carrying a large field rodent in his talons. He landed on top of the flat boulder that served as the roof of the shallow cave and promptly began dismembering his meal with great skill. Tris smirked at her feathered friend "He's getting fat." She remarked. The bird gave her an indignant look and then resumed picking at his meal. She hated the small talk and wished that the elf would get to the heart of the matter.

"And the kobold?"

Tris noticed the elf's purposeful omission of her friend's name and bristled inwardly. "Deekin and I parted ways in Silverymoon."

Leland's sensitive elven ears picked up on the agitation in her voice at the mention of the kobold. He saw that she was annoyed with him and he immediately realized his error, though she continued speaking and he lost the moment for an apology.

"I haven't seen him since" she continued, "Though I know he followed me shortly after I left. I picked up on it when Ajax started eating bigger game I know he can't hunt on his own." The bird looked at them again at the mention of its own name, realized that the topic wasn't him and brought his attentions back on the dead rodent beneath him.

"It puzzles me why he won't show his face though" she mused, creasing her brow "perhaps he feels I won't accept him for lack of his resolve. He was adamant about staying in the city and learning more of humans and other races when I left, despite the dangers of being a kobold in a human settlement..."

She suddenly realized that the mention of Deekin made her wistfully veer off course and she decided to change the subject and bring the conversation back on its intended track.

"What brings you here Leland?" she asked looking at him. "Surely you're not here to satisfy your own curiosity about my well-being, and that of the company that I keep."

Leland, suddenly his expression grim, nodded. "A mage is missing in Waterdeep - the mad kind, and we have had scarce communication from our agents in the city. You're the only ranger within reach with enough tracking skill to find him."

"Not the only one." she remarked and pointedly looked at him.

He smiled and nodded to concede the point. "I will accompany you, after all two rangers are better than one."

"Tell me about the mage." she prodded.

"Halaster is his name and he has built a massive laboratory complex underneath Waterdeep. Undermountain, it is called." For the next hour or so Leland spent the time to relay what he knew of the mage, his dungeon and the dangers involved in the mission.

When he was done, he helped Tris put out the fire and bury the remains of their dinner. Tris fastened her sword belt across her back and slung her bow over her shoulder. She picked up her pack and they started the descent down the mountain to where Leland left his gelding. They traveled on foot through the woods for a time with the horse burdened with their packs. When they came to a farmstead, not far to the southwest of the mountain forest, the farmer gladly offered Tris one of his horses for he felt greatly indebted to her after she drove a band of ornery trolls off his land the winter prior.

They set out on the western road after that, traveling in the direction of the setting sun, towards the Sword Coast and the city of Waterdeep. They set an easy pace for themselves and counted on arriving at the city gates within ten-day's time. Ajax always flew in the sky in front of them acting as their eyes ahead.

At the start of the tenth day as they were gathering their camp, Tris saw that Ajax flew in a tight pattern above them and his excited keening indicated that he saw something. She called to him and the bird descended to her arm. She linked her mind with his again and asked "What have you seen?" _Black smoke_, the bird projected, and a picture of the black smoke clouds, barely visible over the western horizon formed in Tris's mind.

"What is it?" Leland asked.

"Black smoke on the horizon" she relayed, "burning buildings?" She looked puzzled.

"We shall know soon enough, come; Waterdeep is a half-day's journey from here."

They mounted their horses and started on the western road again. Soon enough they saw what Ajax saw - stacks of black smoke pooling in dark clouds on the horizon. The coastal wind carried with it the unmistakable smell of burning wood and mortar. When they reached the apex of the last hill before the road descended to the shoreline they knew immediately the source of the smoke. Below them stood the city of Waterdeep, columns of black smoke rose above its protective walls as if the city was besieged by an invisible enemy. The angry glow of raging fires was seen just above the rise of the walls. Tris and Leland looked at each other exchanging looks of concern; they spurned their horses and raced down the hill to the city gates, each of them anxious to find out the source of the great fire.


	3. Waterdeep

_**Author's Note**: A bit of trivia in this chapter. First person to tell me the other reason for the name of The Yawning Portal, beside the one given below, will get a cameo in a future chapter. Hint: Book 3 of the Avatar series._

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><p>When they approached the gatehouse, a guard ran out to meet them. The man lifted the visor of his helmet, revealing a day old beard covering a pock-marked face and yellow teeth. "Waterdeep's closed to visitors, until the lords can get these fires under control, ye'd better off stayin at one o' the farms or inns along the road." he sounded off in in a voice heavy from years of using drink and tobacco.<p>

"I need to see the captain." the elf spoke as he produced a sealed letter from the leather pouch he carried on him and handed it to the guard.

It was obvious the man could not read for he turned the letter in his hands with a sour expression on his face. He turned his head back to the gatehouse and yelled at the other guard, "Hey Brock! Go git the captain!"

Brock disappeared inside the gatehouse and a moment later came out with another man, the captain, judging by the heraldry displayed on the tunic he wore over his armor. They strode over to the riders and the other guard handed the sealed letter to the captain. The man tore open the seal and read the contents. He let out a grunt of satisfaction as he finished reading and motioned for Tris and Leland to follow him.

"Don't know why you're so keen on entering the city, but I guess that's the Harpers' business." He said as he led them to the gates. "You best be careful as you make your way to the Yawning Portal, the streets aren't safe, especially after sunset. That's when they come out."

"Who's _they_?" Tris asked.

"Drow," the captain answered, "and all manner of other creatures from the deep. All started when that damned mage Halaster has gone missing. I presume you're here to find him?" He knew the answer for he did not wait for a response. "Anyway those dark elves have been passing through his dungeon onto the streets like they own the place, I'm only glad you've come so long as it means we can put an end to this madness."

Tris and Leland exchanged looks of concern over the news of dark elves running amok inside the city. They reached the gate and the captain banged on the heavy timber doors, the sound reverberating on the wood. They heard the clang of opening locks and a smaller hatch, built into the massive doors, opened and the captain passed his instructions to the guard on the other side.

"Off with you now" the captain said "you'll find The Yawning Portal in the Castle Ward, to the southwest, and like I said, be careful of dark alleys."

Tris and Leland led their horses through the opened hatch and through the arched tunnel beyond. They left the horses at the city stables by the gate and continued through the city on foot. The sight that greeted them inside the city walls was indeed a dire one. Flames could be seen in patches over the rooftops, the air was thick with smoke. Teams of water bearers rushed past them in frantic attempts to douse the flames. Tris fished a rag out of her pack and soaked it in water from her water skin, she tied the thing around her face and Leland moved to do the same.

They made their way to the ward, situated on a cliff, past various alleys and avenues. Much of the city was barricaded with sentries posted at every checkpoint. They soon learned that the city was under curfew instituted for the safety of its own citizens. By the time they made it through all the checkpoints and stood by the entrance of The Yawning Portal the sun was dipping over the horizon. Leland approached the door and moved the heavy knocker to announce their presence. A slit opened and a pair of squinting eyes appeared to scrutinize the visitors. Apparently satisfied that Leland and Tris looked nothing like the drow, the eyes moved to undo the locks on the door. A lumbering form of a half-orc greeted them as they passed inside.

"We're here to see Durnan." Leland said and the half-orc pointed a meaty finger of his one good arm inside the common room, towards the man behind the bar frantically doing busy-work and barking out commands at his staff. The common room itself was converted into a makeshift infirmary, soldiers and common folk alike were resting on makeshift cots with various degrees of injuries. Priests moved among them chanting prayers to their respective gods and offering what healing they could do.

As Leland and Tris approached the bar, Durnan, without looking up at the new arrivals placed two mugs on the table, "What'll it be travelers? None of the hard stuff mind you, that's been appropriated for cleaning wounds."

"It's good to see you too Durnan!" Leland exclaimed, and the old man then raised his eyes at them.

His eyes went wide with pleasant surprise at the sight of the elf "Leland, you old son-of-a-troll, its a relief to see you in such difficult circumstances!" He reached over the bar and embraced the elf in an eager crushing hug. He then turned his attentions on Tris, "And who is your lovely companion?" He offered a toothy grin at her.

"Tristin Falke." Leland offered as Tris held out her hand in greeting to the man. Durnan took up her hand in a firm handshake.

"Drogan's apprentice," he remarked, "Its good to finally meet you lass, your exploits are well known among the Harpers."

The man himself sported a hirsute beard that he kept closely trimmed, he was of a stocky build and his broad shoulders hinted at his former adventurer's career. His beady eyes were sharp and full of life; the situation in his inn did not seem to bother him in the least.

"Come, let us converse in private" he said as he moved to a door behind the bar.

"Tamsil!" He barked at the girl that poked her head out of the kitchen, barely in her teens. "Take over will you? Your old man's got business to attend to! Good kid, a bit addle-brained sometimes." He added as they moved beyond the portal leading to his private office.

They sat in Durnan's private quarters for some time discussing the events that overwhelmed Waterdeep after the message about the missing mage went out. The drow and other denizens of the dark started showing up shortly after Halaster's disappearance and what's worse – prominent citizens started turning up murdered, putting the city in a perpetual state of lockdown and panic. Most nobles barricaded themselves in the rich quarters and no one was allowed to leave the city until order was restored. Everyone knew that the dark elves found the way to the surface through Halaster's dungeon, though Durnan doubted that the mage allied himself with the drow. He was a crazy old bastard but not the kind to share his secrets with anyone, especially the scheming drow. Durnan revealed that it was likely that there were several entrances into Undermountain throughout the city, most likely in the sewers, though his inn stood guard over one of the most well known doorways, as the tavern's name implied.

Durnan laid out his plan about Undermountain and was pleased to let Leland and Tristin know that they would not venture alone into that devious place. A company from Neverwinter has offered their services, and they appeared competent on all accounts from Durnan as they were part of the group of heroes that aided Neverwinter against Maugrim a few years back.

By the time they finished laying out their plans, the moon was high in the sky and most of the tavern's patrons were dozing in their rented rooms or slumped over the few tables not converted into makeshift cots. Durnan led Tristin and Leland upstairs and showed them their respective rooms; he then bid them good night and retired for the night as well.


	4. Assassination Attempt

Tris was dreaming, or was it a vision? The colors and details of her surroundings were far too vivid for this to be a dream.

She was floating above a dark chapel; mage lights cast the room in hues of rich purple. Somewhere a set of delicate chimes sounded off a couple of notes every now and again. On one end an intricately carved statue of a half elven half spider monstrosity with a delicately beautiful female face stood facing a congregation of robed figures. Tris couldn't see their faces but she guessed them to be drow by the chamber's decor.

At the head of the crowd, kneeling at the altar was a female form, robed in a delicate web-like ceremonial cloak. Her silk white mane was adorned by an eight-pronged crown. As the priestess tilted her head back to offer a prayer to the spider-like idol on the altar, Tris could spy a brilliant oval sapphire gracing the center of her crown, bringing the eight prongs together in the form of another spider.

When the chanting stopped, eight drow males formed a circle in the center of the room and began chanting and moving their arms about in what appeared to be the start of a spell. Lights flared up around their delicate elven hands and engulfed them, then a single ray of light left each of them to connect at the center of the circle they formed just above a large round piece of polished obsidian stone.

Suddenly, Tris felt a tugging at her core and she saw that she was being pulled towards this obsidian mirror and for a moment she felt frightened. Did they know that she was here, that she unwittingly spied on whatever drow ritual they were performing and now they caught her? She tried to protest but felt no sound leaving her throat, and then she realized how absurd her logic was and decided that this was most likely a dream.

The priestess was eye level with her now and as she approached Tris to get a better look at her, Tris saw that she was truly beautiful. Her face was finely sculptured, her eyes glowed red like two flawless rubies and were framed by delicate white brows, her nose was thin and haughty. Her lips, bow shaped, curled into a cruel sneer. As she stalked closer, Tris saw that hidden underneath the gossamer robe was a shapely feminine figure, the priestess wore an outfit that left little to the imagination. At her hip rested a cruel eight headed whip, each strand writhing lazily about and as Tris focused to get a better look she saw that each head was a living viper.

The priestess stopped short outside the obsidian circle, "What? A surfacer female? Your spells are becoming faulty mage!" The drow spoke in a halting foreign language, but Tris understood her clear as day.

"I assure you Valsharess, my scrying spells have never failed you, this is the human your infernal servant spoke of." She heard a nervous male voice off to the side and assumed it belonged to the mage in question. "With the allies you have gathered, Valsharess, I am confident that his human has no chance of stopping you."

Tris understood now that this was neither a dream nor a vision, this was a scrying attempt and apparently she was witness to it. She didn't know what arcane trickery allowed her to look in on her observers like this but she knew it was significant.

"Enough wizard! I tire of your groveling adulations!" She spoke an arcane power word and pointed her finger at the mage. The mage managed to let out a short yelp before he was engulfed in flames, a moment later his lifeless body dropped in a smoldering heap to the floor.

"You there, male," she pointed at another of her servants, "gather this useless pile of excrement and feed it to the driders."

She then turned her attention back to Tris. "No one has the power to stop me, not even this scrawny human." She said as a wicked smile spread across her face. "Summon the Red Sisters, I shall have this one killed before she has a chance. Her sacrifice shall please Lolth greatly."

As the priestess said her last words she began to fade from view as everything else in Tris's field of vision. Eventually Tris found herself enveloped in complete darkness with nothing but the persistent whisper of the chimes keeping her company. She suddenly realized that it was her sixth sense telling her that she was in a presence of an immortal, a being from another plane. Master Drogan once explained it to her that it was her senses picking up the energy that emanated from such beings. He said that everyone's sense was different: for Master Drogan everything became enveloped in a thin halo of light when he was in their presence, Tris heard a set of chimes as if their energies were a breeze blowing against her inner sense. It was the same set of chimes she always heard when she was in the presence of the Reaper.

"Hello?" She called out, "Who's out there?" She turned in all directions in the void trying to locate the presence and when the chimes tinkled louder she decided that was the direction she needed to face. She saw a thin outline of a tall figure and strained her eyes to discern more, she started in the direction to meet the manifestation but suddenly stopped as she saw the figure stir and move towards her.

The first thing she saw was a pair of serpentine eyes looking back at her. They were two carmine pupils framed by crimson irises set in corneas so white that they appeared almost blue, giving them an unsettling look. A moment later a face emerged from the darkness, its features handsome yet diabolical as the skin was completely scarlet, and black scales framed its temples and forehead, dark lips comfortably rested in a lazy scowl. As the face stalked closer to her she could gradually discern the rest of the physique that emerged into her field of vision. His head was crowned by two massive horns that curved upwards and he wore his black mane luxuriously long. Powerful muscles lined his bare torso and arms and he carried with him a three-pronged ranceur. He wore a wide girdle on his waist, artfully etched in intricate runic designs and beset with priceless jewels, and a long leather skirt that allowed for a wide stride. A pair of black massive leather wings trailed behind him. His visage reminded Tris of the Reaper, the inhabitant of the relic that was bound to her, though the sight of this one was far more menacing.

"Did the Reaper send you?" She asked. His black lips curled into a knowing smile revealing pearly white teeth, though he didn't answer. Instead he reached out with his hand and gently pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. She could see that his fingernails were black and long and talon-like and as he brushed his hand against her cheek she could feel immense and baleful power rolling off his fingertips. The chords of the chimes rang discordant within her being. She winced at the gesture though she didn't lift her gaze from his.

He bent closer now and she could feel his breath on her on her cheek and it sent a shiver down her spine, for a moment she thought she smelled brimstone. "Time to wake up Tristin," he whispered in a baritone voice that was deeply powerful and incredibly alluring, "you have a visitor."

"Who are you?" She asked once more, but he was gone and so was the chiming.

Tristin snapped open her eyes. She found herself staring at the ceiling of her room at The Yawning Portal, she was drenched in sweat. She didn't know what hour it was but the faint moonlight outside her window told her that it was still night. Her ranger senses told her that she was not alone. She heard a hushed whispering in recital of some spell, and then felt a faint presence of magic as the arcane words were discharged followed by a barely audible pop of the spell's completion.

She sensed the intruder creep closer to her bedside and knew she was in danger. She felt for the hunting knife she placed under her pillow and firmly gripped its handle. She closed her eyes not wanting the intruder to know that she was awake, leaving a slit open so she could see in how much danger she really was.

She finally saw a slender silhouette stand by her headboard, it raised its arms above the head both hands gripping an object. Tris saw the glint of steel just before a sharp dagger descended on her, she rolled out of the dagger's path just in time as it harmlessly struck into the mattress. The attacker knew that that the element of stealth was gone. Tris didn't waste any time and used the moment that the assassin hesitated, took one of her pillows and threw it at the attacker buying her time to run to her locker to retrieve her sword. To her dismay she found the chest missing and knew then that the earlier spell must have spirited her equipment away, leaving her practically defenseless. No matter, she still gripped the hunting knife and considered it better odds than having to face her attacker bare-handed. She whipped around and found the assassin barreling towards her with the dagger in front, aimed for her gut.

She pirouetted out of the way just as the assassin reached her and elbowed the attacker in the back of the head. The assassin stumbled but regained composure quickly and spun around to face her now; they both circled each other like two predators ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Tris locked her eyes with the attacker and saw two glowing red orbs behind the mask, a distinct characteristic of the drow.

The attacker lunged again to test her reflexes but Tris was able to deflect the attack with an easy parry. The attacker then came at her again in a series of short lunges with the purpose of keeping her on her heels. Tris had to admit to herself that the tactic was working because it kept her on the defensive and she was hard pressed to find an opening.

Struggling to keep the assassin at bay Tris didn't notice how dangerously close she was to the foot of the bed, her next step connected the back of her knees with the foot-board and she faltered onto the mattress. The assassin lunged then with full force with the intent to pin her down, but Tris was quick to react. She brought her knees up to her chest and kicked out with all her strength and it sent the assassin flying across the room.

The assassin crashed into the dresser on the other side of the room. The mirror that hung above it shuddered and slid off its hook, connecting with the dresser and tumbling down in a loud crash to the floor. Tris didn't lose her moment, she rushed at her attacker, but the drow again was quick to recover. The drow rushed back at Tris and they locked each other in a wrestling embrace, each holding the other's weapon hand in a tight grip. The assassin then surprised Tris and tripped her foot, she came crashing down on the floor and found herself pinned by the assassin's body. She wasn't about to give up and pulled one of her own tricks - she yanked her weapon hand to herself making the drow lurch to the side and she used the momentum to roll on top of the assassin.

She brought her head down to connect squarely with the drow's masked face and heard the distinct crunch of a breaking nose, she sincerely hoped that it wasn't her own as the move gave her a great deal of pain and for a moment she thought she saw stars in her vision. She didn't break her concentration though as she wished to end this fight quickly now. She saw that her attacker was stunned from the blow and she used this moment to bring her blade across the drow's throat and in one swift motion extinguish the assassin's life.

She pulled the mask free off the drow to find herself looking at a feminine face contorted in a dying grimace. The drow's eyes finally rolled to the top of her head as she chocked on the last of her breath and her body went limp under Tris.

The door to her room swung open and Tris saw Tamsil rush into the room "Are you all right miss? I woke up when I heard a commotion..." The girl stopped short in her tracks at the scene in front of her "Oh my!" Was all she could utter.

Tris gingerly felt at her nose, still reeling from the earlier impact and was satisfied that even though it was bleeding the bone was still intact; she wiped the blood off with the back of her hand and looked at Tamsil "I'm alive, though I didn't order the drow. Go wake your father girl; he'll need to know what happened."

Tamsil silently nodded, obviously unnerved by the scene of the dead drow and the pool of blood that was now spreading out onto the floor boards. She turned on her heel and ran out of the room to rouse her father.


	5. Undermountain

"They grow bold if they sent out an assassin for someone just arrived at the city, and in my own inn!" Durnan was exasperated; it was obvious that the events of the past few weeks were beginning to take a toll on him. "You were lucky Tristin to have caught the drow before she had the chance to kill you; few face a drow assassin and live to tell about it."

Tristin nodded in agreement though she kept quiet about the early warning she received from a rather unwelcome intruder. The bridge of her nose still hurting from her encounter with the assassin. Though the bleeding stopped, a sprawling bruise had formed around it and under her eyes, making her look even more morose than she already was.

They were gathered now with the company from Neverwinter along with a dozen guards in an anteroom that led to the cellar housing the well that served as the entrance to Undermountain. Tris was adjusting the straps on her borrowed armor; her own equipment had been spirited away by her attacker. It was a garish-colored number, completely impractical for a ranger's stealth, and it chafed in places as it fit her poorly. She guessed it was designed to be worn at arena fights as most of the other items she found in Durnan's store room.

Tris didn't feel the loss of her armor as keenly as she felt the loss of her longsword however; Günter's Talon, despite being a family heirloom, was as fine a weapon as was ever made. Its edges were ever sharp and it was said that the wounds it inflicted never healed, making its victim die of blood loss. It was her great grandfather's once, who was a knight in the Cormyrean King's service and it was gifted to him by the king himself for his valiant defense of one of the outposts along Cormyr's borders. She was entrusted with Talon when she was sent away to Drogan's school and had sworn to her father, much to her mother's dismay, to carry on its legacy. The longsword that she now possessed felt unfamiliar in her hands and even though it was well-balanced and in good condition, it paled in comparison to Talon. She sighed inwardly at the loss; it seemed that her mission to find Halaster now included the search for her lost weapon as well.

She studied the company that now gathered here. The Neverwinter company looked like ordinary sell-swords: there was the half-orc barbarian, the enforcer of the group, a cleric, a rogue and a bard. It was like the start of a stale joke she realized. They didn't impress her much, though Durnan was confident in their abilities. They didn't seem to have group cohesion and only banded together out of necessity and a desire to earn a quick coin and perhaps some fame. The Halfling rogue especially grated on her nerves this early morning, his constant barbs about her being an easy mark certainly did not endear him to her. She sighed inwardly and wished Deekin was here, his company was the unrequiring kind and despite his simple manners the kobold had a capacity for great wisdom that always seemed to surprise her.

Leland stood in a corner completely sullen, feeling guilty for sneaking out in the night to patrol the streets of Waterdeep and having had put Tristin in more danger. Tristin smiled inwardly at the ranger's misguided sense of duty, though she didn't hold it against him. She knew he left out of a sense of duty to uphold goodness and to protect the innocent and she knew that she was far better equipped to handle a drow attack than an ordinary citizen. In truth she was happy to have at least him along, she knew his skill and she could rely on him.

A sudden explosion in the cellar brought Tristin back out of her reverie; it shook the support beams of the anteroom, spraying mortar from the rafters. The heavy door swung open and a score of drow and deurgar burst through the portal. A wall of impenetrable darkness went up in front of them, blocking any visibility to what transpired on the other side. Anyone that was unlucky enough to find themselves on the other side of the wall found a swift death at the sharp end of a drow sword.

Tris heard the sound of crossbows releasing their bolts, she kicked out a table on its side and dove behind it just as several of the bolts struck the thick wood. Two wide-eyed guards had joined her at the barricade - two youths she realized for they barely sported any facial hair - they had probably never seen a drow, and more than likely this was their first battle. They looked at her for guidance and she could do nothing but give back a stern look of confidence and a nod of encouragement as she took her sword out of its scabbard.

Suddenly a nasal rasping of an off color tune joined the commotion in the room and it seemed to have stunned everyone, attackers and defenders alike, into indecision. Tris recognized the voice immediately and a sly grin spread across her face. She gripped the longsword firmly in her hands now and leaped over the impromptu bulwark to face the globe of darkness. She raised her eyes to look around its edges. She saw a telltale flickering of light accompanied by chanting and she knew her first target. She took up a charging stance, with the longsword positioned behind her and ready for a vicious back-handed swing and rushed into the wall of darkness directly for the flickering lights. She emerged on the other side directly in front of the mage. The drow lost his concentration at the sight of a human girl dressed in brightly colored leather garb rushing him and the next moment he lost his life. Her swing had almost severed his head and he dropped to the floor in a lifeless heap.

Leland was first to regain his composure, the sight of Tristin rushing off into the impenetrable darkness brought his senses back to the situation at hand. He took up his bow and loosed a couple of arrows after her. One bounced off harmlessly from the stone wall on the other side but the other one hit its mark, sinking into the neck of a drow warrior and killing him instantly. He took out his twin scimitars and rushed in after Tristin.

The others too, now understanding that the raspy humming was friendly, picked up their weapons and with encouraging hoots and howls rushed to meet their attackers. The drow forces understanding that they had lost the initiative took on defensive positions. The clash of steel against steel brought the battle to full force.

Tristin found herself facing two drow warriors, one heavily armed and wielding a wickedly flanged mace, the other sporting a rapier and a dirk in his offhand. She snapped up her own sword eye level in font of her and took up a defensive stance, she eyed both of her opponents as they regarded her.

The one with the mace attacked first, the mace coming high over his head in a downward swing to Tris's left shoulder. She brought up the sword to block the swing, the drow's companion saw an opening and thrust his rapier at her mid-section. Tris anticipated the move, and used the momentum of her block to swing the mace out wide, sending the attacker off balance and pivoting herself safely parallel to the rapier's thrust. The second drow was now coming in at her with his offhand dirk, her back still turned to him. She reversed her grip on the longsword and reversed the flow of her blocking swing to face the oncoming drow. She took a step back into the path of his blade but it never reached her, the drow impaled himself on her sword before he even knew it, puncturing a lung.

She yanked her sword free to let the now dead drow drop to the floor and brought it up in time to block another swing from the mace. She heaved her weight with the block sending the attacker back but the drow was quick to recover and he came at her again. Each time the mace came at her Tris blocked the attack but she saw no opening in his defenses. She hoped to tire him out but each swing that came at her became more vicious and this one gave no indication that he was losing wind. She felt her arms tiring and wasn't sure how long she could keep up her defense.

On the drow's next swing Tris, instead of blocking his mace, ducked beneath his swing right under his guard, it brought her face to face with her attacker and she tackled his side with all the weight she could muster into her right shoulder. The drow stumbled sideways, Tris thought she saw a familiar scaly face running towards her to give her aid but the drow tripped over one of his dead companions and fell over backwards on the floor. She didn't stop to think her next move and came over on top of him and impaled her sword into his gut and the next moment she was off to fight another enemy.

Leland disposed of a few deurgar with ease; his superb skill with the scimitars gave him great advantage over the stocky dwarves. Soon however he found himself facing a foe whose skill was no lesser than his own. They faced each other in an elegant dance of weaving swords and the drow matched Leland's skillful attacks with equally elegant parries and counter attacks. Leland was so consumed by the deadly dance that he did not notice a deurgar dwarf sneak in behind him. The dwarf swept his heavy club low and brought the ranger off his feet. Up went the club high and smashed into Leland's knee. He felt the sudden burst of pain as the bone cracked but kept his wits about him enough to send the sharp end of his left scimitar directly under the dwarf's chin and through his scull. He blocked the drow's swords with his other scimitar and with a half roll came in directly under his foe. He thrust both weapons up now plunging them into the drow's side.

His knee shattered, Leland knew his sword skills were no longer useful in this fight. He took up his bow again and nocked an arrow. As he looked down the arrow's shaft for his next target he realized that the tide of battle has turned. With the deurgar eliminated the remaining drow were now retreating back into the cellar, the din of battle had died down.

The others saw too that they had their attackers routed and with hoots of victory chased after the fleeing drow. Tris thought it foolish to rush in so fast after the attackers, the narrow doorway and stairs provided a perfect opportunity for an ambush, she had no choice however but to follow her companions if for nothing else but to ensure they were victorious. As she rounded the corner of the staircase she witnessed the last of the drow jump down the chasm that led into Undermountain.

She ran up to the ledge to peer into the chasm and she saw the last of the drow float down lightly into the darkness. He pointed his crossbow directly at her and let lose a bolt. Tris jerked her head to the side, the quarrel narrowly missing her and bouncing off the ceiling harmlessly above her. He looked at her and gave her a wide grin, the last thing she saw was a pair of red glowing eyes and pearly white teeth disappearing into the darkness below.

With the drow gone, the defenders turned to go back to the inn proper to tend to the dead and the wounded. The battle wasn't over yet however, the air in the cellar felt electrified, crackling with a buildup of magic. Tris peered over the edge of the chasm and noticed an outline of a fleshy mound rise up from the darkness. She peered closer at it. "What is that?" she asked and the others joined her at the ledge to try and discern the nature of the thing rising up to meet them. They all backed away from the edge of the chasm in anticipation of whatever creature was rising to meet them. The cellar filled with flashes of light as the concentration of arcane energies intensified. The fleshy mound finally rose up completely to reveal a gargantuan floating eye with a giant maw filled with razor sharp teeth, tentacles protruded from this floating orb, each in turn containing a smaller version of the eye.

"The gods have mercy, a beholder!" Durnan let out a surprised yelp and the thing turned its gaze directly at him. Its central eye flashed white as it released a ray of energy right at him.

"Get down!" was all Tris had time to scream as she ran towards the inn keeper to tackle him and push him out of the way. Anyone caught in the eye of the beholder rarely came out alive to recount the experience. The ray of energy rocked the cellar with an explosive boom, knocking Tris and Durnan off their feet as they tumbled on the floor.

When Tris shook off the effects of the explosion and turned to face the beholder she saw that the mercenaries from Neverwinter were throwing every spell and arrow they had at their disposal to send the thing back into the abyss. She took her hunting knife out of its holster and flung it directly at the central eye. The knife sank in to the hilt and the monstrous thing jerked back in surprise and let out a deathly scream, obviously in pain. It was now spinning wildly in the air above the chasm, beaten and disoriented. Hitting one of the cellar walls with a good amount of force it stopped and plunged down into the darkness as the last of its magic energies expired.

A wild cheer went up to celebrate their victory and someone in the group proclaimed. "We have them beaten! Let us be off and meet them in Undermountain before they have a chance to regroup!"

"Wait!" Durnan let out but it was hopeless, before he knew it, the whole of the Neverwinter company and several of the guards entered the lift and were down the shaft before he could stop them.

"Foolish, foolish people!" The surly innkeeper exclaimed as Tris helped him up to his feet. "They know not what lies in wait down there!"

Tris approached the ledge again to watch the lift descend into the darkness. Durnan joined her at the edge and let out a tired sigh. "I'm afraid I will be sending you down there without much help." He said looking at her "And I'm afraid your job will now also include rescuing the sorry fools, the Harpers will of course compensate you accordingly," he added as an afterthought.

She looked at the darkness below her for a long while, a million thoughts rushing through her head. This job was quickly turning into an undertaking of epic proportions and she wondered if she was getting into something way over her head - a repeat of Undertide was the last thing she wanted to go through again. She signed inwardly and decided that it was too late to turn back now. "I understand Durnan." She said as she turned to climb the staircase leading to the inn proper. "I'll do my best to return them safely up here, there are a couple of things that I must do before I make my descent."

She found Leland upstairs desperately trying to upright himself. His shattered knee was hastily bandaged, his own handiwork she guessed, and the bandages soaked in blood. He was using a broken spear as a crutch and Tris could tell the knee was in bad shape as he couldn't put any pressure on it. He kept hopping around on his other leg as he tried to reach one of the chairs to sit on.

"It will heal." he said giving Tris a look of desperation, he was trying to convince himself as much as her, she guessed that he was still very serious about accompanying her to Undermountain.

"You're no good to me down there with a lame leg Leland." She said as she shook her head disapprovingly. She bent down to examine the knee and touched the bandages gingerly; he winced sucking in a breath of air as her hands made contact with the shattered bone.

"Sit down," she said as she brought one of the chairs closer to him and took out one of her own healing kits. She applied a pungent salve to staunch the bleeding and numb the pain and then fashioned a splint out of two stiff planks and reapplied a new set of bandages.

"Going alone is suicide." He said looking at her.

"I'm not going alone." She said as she looked up tying the last of the knots. He gave her a quizzical look, not yet understanding what she was getting at. She got up without saying a word and made her way to the mace wielding drow she killed earlier. She grabbed the corpse by the bevor of his armor and hauled him aside. Underneath she found the familiar scaly face looking up at her.

"Deekin hasn't been squished this long not since his old master roll over him in his sleep." He commented with that rasping voice of his.

Tristin smiled at the sight "I wondered when you might show your face." She said as she helped him to his feet.

"Tristin not be mad at Deekin?" the kobold asked with a bit of trepidation.

"Whatever gave you that idea Deeks?" She asked.

"Deekin not brave enough to stay at Silverymoon by himself, so Deekin follows Tristin to the mountains, but Deekin be scared of what Tristin might think of him if Deekin run away from the city." The kobold said as he looked down at the floor, nervously wringing his writs.

"I'm your friend Deeks, not your master. Friends don't pass judgement, I would have gladly accepted your company." She said as she gripped his shoulder reassuringly and looked directly into his reptilian eyes. "Now I seem to have gotten myself into another grand adventure, I was wondering if you might join me."

The kobold's face lit up with a toothy smile "Deekin thought you'd never ask!" Then he tentatively looked at the dagger he was still gripping in his scaly hand, it was bent hopelessly out of shape when the drow toppled over him. "Though Deekin thinks he won't be much help with a song and a broken weapon to his name."

Tris burst out laughing at his predicament, it reminded her so much of the situation she was in herself. She then remembered the wicked mace the drow had wielded and picked up the weapon. It was obvious that it was made by a master, its flanges spaced in perfect symmetry and sharpened at the edges, it felt light in her hands and well-balanced. She imagined that a well-placed strike from it could not only destroy armor but could also kill, she felt an enchantment had been placed on it.

She handed the mace to Deekin, "Use this, I think it might be enchanted."

The kobold took the weapon in his hands and studied it. "Hmm...a strength enchantment, does it have a name?"

Tris shrugged in reply "Why don't you give it one."

Deekin turned the weapon in his hands admiring its craftsmanship. He swung it easily with a flick of the wrist and smacked it against the stone wall of the room. Sparks flew as it connected with the stone leaving a crater in its wake. "Starsplitter" the kobold finally said with a satisfied nod.

There was one last task Tris needed to do before leaving for Undermountain. She stepped outside the tavern's protective walls onto the streets of Waterdeep. She looked to the sky as she extended her mind to connect with Ajax. She felt the bird close and looked in the direction where she spotted him circling in the clouds above the city rooftops. Ajax acknowledged her presence and veered down to meet her. She looked into his richly expressive chestnut-colored eyes and thought about how much she would miss his avian company. She knew however how much Ajax hated the darkness of caves and she couldn't deny him the freedom of the open sky.

"We must part ways for a while friend." She said with a wistful tone to her voice. Ajax always understood her perfectly and knew that this was perhaps their last time together in a long time. He grew agitated as she reached to his talons and tried to remove the jesses, furiously pecking at her fingers and sounding off his displeasure in high pitched calls.

When she was done, the bird hopped down on the ground in front of her and with great urgency started plucking at his wing. He pulled out one of his flight feathers and placed it at her feet. She bent down to pick it up and admire its natural beauty - it was banded in rich brown glossy colors, long and narrow it tapered off at a black tip. She took up the feather and looped it through one of the buttonholes in her jacket. She then reached down into the pouch at her belt and fished out an old signet ring with her family's crest and looped one of the jesses through it to fashion a makeshift necklace out of it, she reached down to Ajax and placed the string around his neck.

She looked into his rich brown eyes one last time and felt him project _Remember me_. "I will" she replied. With those last words Ajax took off the ground and took to the sky. It would be a long time before they would see each other again and Tris hoped with all her heart that it would not be the last. When she returned to the tavern, she saw that Durnan took the care to thoroughly prepare the provisions for her and Deekin, he also handed her a resurrection rod, a gift from White Thesta, one of the priests volunteering at the inn, with the promise that she would use the rod on any of the people that have rashly pursued the drow into Undermountain and perished. Tris noted that the priestess herself had taken a great interest in Leland, much to the chagrin of the elf, and some part of her enjoyed watching the him squirm under the lady's strong and somewhat awkward advances.

Tris said her goodbyes to the good people of the inn and finally she and Deekin descended down the shaft into Undermountain. Soon the shaft became a pitch black as what little light the cellar provided disappeared as they went deeper into the mine. Tris twisted a cat's eye ring on her finger - a magical item that gave her the ability to see in the dark without the attracting light of a torch, and one of the few items the Drow did not pilfer. Her sight was instantly filled with the dull gray outlines of the rocky cavern as if illuminated by twilight. She saw the great doors that led into Halaster's dungeon standing ajar and the corpse of the eye tyrant lying still on the floor next to the shaft elevator. She approached the corpse and yanked her hunting knife out its now lifeless eye, wiped the blade and replaced it into its holster.

"Ready Deeks?" she asked her scaly companion.

"Deekin never be ready Tris." The kobold nervously replied, but nonetheless adjusted his belt and puffed out his chest to seem more brave. With those final words they entered Halaster's dungeon.


	6. Nathyrra

_A/N: The small bit of Drow language used in this chapter means "I am an ally, do not attack." I used a translator, one of many readily available on the web._

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><p>Nathyrra sat inside a hidden cubby carved into the natural walls of the giant cavern. Two large stalagmites hid her hidey hole from prying eyes and the space between them offered her a good view of the tunnel on the opposite side of the cavern. She checked the metal disc she kept in a belt pouch and it glowed a dull blue, the heat enchantment was almost gone. She hoped the human girl would show herself soon, it was almost time for her to report to her commander, she didn't want to raise any suspicions.<p>

She shifted inside the cubby hole to get some feeling back to her cramped legs and wrapped the Piwafwi tight around herself. She decided that if the girl didn't show herself in the next hour the surfacer would find out about the drow patrols in the caverns to the east on her own. Nathyrra glanced in the direction midway from her position and the tunnel, to a spot where she had set up an abandoned campsite and stashed some potions she knew would help. She was confident that the surface girl would find the campsite as it was on the only path in and out of this cavern.

A short while later she spotted two heat signatures in the tunnel she was sent to watch. One carried the distinct low glow and stature of a kobold, and the other glowed in hues of reds and oranges, it was about the same height as the average drow. By all scout reports she knew this was the human surfacer and her kobold companion. She quietly moved out of her cubby and made her way to the campsite she had set up.

Tristin moved down the uneven tunnel with caution and bade Deekin to keep a few steps behind her; she was looking for traps and didn't want interference from the kobold. They were no longer in Halaster's dungeons, where they had spent the last three weeks looking for clues about the mad mage's disappearance. She mulled over the events of the last month as she studied the gravel in front of her feet. They had found the Waterdhavian guard and the Neverwinter Company more or less in one piece, she had sent all of them promptly back to the relative safety of The Yawning Portal.

Her mind kept going back to the night before she descended into the darkness. She couldn't help but wonder if the warning she received about the assassin was connected to the Relic. She fingered the leathery lump of stone in her pocket, she didn't like visiting the Reaper's realm, the place always gave her a vague feeling of dread, plus the creature was never the talkative kind. Still, she needed some answers and decided that a visit was overdue.

They rounded a bend in the tunnel and Tristin saw that it opened up into a large cavern a few meters away. She approached the mouth of the cavern and scanned the gray expanse in front of her. Stalagmites littered the ground in patches, offering good cover for any number of enemies waiting in ambush. Leering stalactites hung off the ceiling, so low in places that they connected in hour glass shapes with their counterparts below.

She motioned for Deekin to crouch low and keep quiet. She closed her eyes and concentrated on listening instead. The place was dead quiet save for the low breeze of the warm air currents that were passing into the tunnel to meet the cooler air of the halls above. She reached out with her mind, not a single animal made its presence known; the cave rats she had encountered in Halaster's labyrinth were curiously absent from this place. Tris decided that if there was an ambush, they were well trained and they had the advantage. She didn't want to take any chances however and took out two vials of liquid to counteract the sleeping poison that the drow seemed to be fond of using. She passed one to Deekin and gulped down the other one. She took the longsword out of its sheath and motioned for Deekin to do the same.

They moved through the cavern along the only path available among the stalagmites. About the middle of the cave they came upon what looked like remnants of a camp. Deekin went immediately to examining the lock on a footlocker that was left among the debris. Tris scanned the campsite for hidden traps and items to salvage. She didn't notice the lone drow come out from behind one of the stalagmites a few meters away from them.

"Usstan tlun biu abban, xun naut thrityh." The drow said, and the sound of her voice in the empty cavern startled Tris. She whipped around to face the drow, her guard up, and she saw that this one stood with her arms slightly apart, palms out. She crossed her arms across her chest and bowed curtly to them, all the while staring at Tris with those red glowing eyes. "Usstan tlun biu abban, xun naut thrityh." She repeated, but the words held no meaning.

Tristin looked to Deekin, frozen in bewildered surprise and indecision like her. The drow turned her gaze on the kobold then and barked out something to him in guttural yips, hisses and snorts of his own language. Deekin cocked his head to the side, he understood her meaning as he hopped from one foot to the other in obvious excitement.

"Tristin, drow lady say she not fight us. Drow lady say she knows where crazy wizard be." He tugged on her cloak, all the while staring at the dark elf in front of him with a bit of apprehension.

Tris looked at the drow, the woman reached into the pouch hanging off her belt and produced a rolled up piece of parchment and a small silver object. She bent down to place the objects on the ground before her and then took a few steps back, all the while not taking her eyes off them.

Tristin walked up to the items to pick them up. She rolled out the parchment to reveal a map of the cavern and the surrounding tunnels and caves. Several locations were marked on the map. She then examined the silver object, it was a cylindrical clip, embossed with an intricate design of elven origin. She looked at the drow and the lady showed her that she should clip it to her ear.

When Tris secured the clip to her ear the drow spoke again. "It should help you understand me now" she said. "I am Nathyrra, I was sent to help you."

"The map shows all the caves and tunnels in this section of the Underdark." She continued, "I have marked for you the cave where Halaster is held prisoner. The caverns before it are heavy with drow patrols, if you want to avoid them, I strongly suggest you free the Formian colony to the west of here from our slavers. They can help you tunnel through to avoid the patrols, or fight them if you chose to engage. There is also a small drow supply outpost to the north-east of here. I believe they hold something of value to you."

"Why should I trust you?" Tris asked, not convinced of the windfall she just received.

"You shouldn't." Her reply was painfully honest. "I have given you all the information you need, it's up to you to decide to trust on it or no, but I will not waste my time trying to convince you of my good intentions." She glanced at her metal disc again, "I have appointments to keep."

She turned around and started in the direction of the tunnels with the patrols.

"Wait!"

She stopped to look back at Tris over her shoulder, her ruby red eyes gleaming.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Not all drow wish to enslave Toril, surfacer. Some of us know the wickedness of Lolth and wish to change our lot. Some of us fight our brethren. If you wish to know more, survive the patrols to the east, I will meet you by the cave where Halaster is held and help you free him. Then we can talk." Nathyrra then turned back and wordlessly disappeared into the darkness.

* * *

><p>The drow wasn't lying and Tris took it as a good sign. The Formians gladly offered her help when she freed their queen from the slavers. They had dug a tunnel parallel to the patrol location and she had come out into a large cavern not far from the supply post. The outpost was guarded lightly but the fight had been a difficult one. She didn't see the two arbalests situated on a ledge overlooking the camp when she and Deekin stormed the place. One of the bolts landed a good hit on her, it only grazed her shoulder but the tip was sharp enough to cut through the leather armor and leave a deep gash in her arm.<p>

She was now bent over a corpse of one of the drow she had killed, rifling through his belongings. He was a mage, the deep pockets of his robes contained mostly spell components, a couple of wands were strapped to the inside lapel of his jacket, she handed them to Deekin.

A large key ring hung off his belt containing several keys, she grabbed it and strode off to one of the supply tents at the camp. The large reinforced chest in the tent had a complex lock, even Deekin wasn't able to coax it open. She was now hoping that one of the keys she had found on the mage would open the chest for her. One by one she inserted them until she found one that easily turned inside the hole and she heard the gentle click of the opening lock.

She opened the chest and could hardly believe her eyes at what she found inside. Lying among various other weapons was Talon. She would recognize the sword anywhere by the distinct relief of a falcon stamped into the pommel. She reached inside the chest and brushed her fingers along the length of the scabbard. When she reached the hilt, she firmly wrapped her fingers around the grip and lifted the longsword out of the chest. She felt relieved and strangely giddy at being reunited with the weapon, to most people it might have been strange to feel this keen about an object, but to Tris it was a mark of pride and there were very few things she felt proud about in her life. It suddenly occurred to her that Halaster was held prisoner not far from here and with having had retrieved her weapon it seemed like this mission was almost at an end. Perhaps her gut feeling was wrong, perhaps it was just her rattled nerves from spending so much time in the stifling surroundings of Halaster's labyrinth and then the dank caves of Underdark. Perhaps this was just another mission and not some epic undertaking she stumbled upon. She helped Deekin gather the most useful items from the camp and they went off to meet Halaster's captors, the prospect of seeing the cobalt blue of the open sky gave Tris a renewed sense of urgency and purpose.

* * *

><p>They met Nathyrra again on the path just outside the cave where Halaster was held. She was standing over a corpse of another drow, her curved daggers drawn and dripping with blood, she had just killed this one. His companion was lying a few meters away just as dead. Without turning her head to greet them she raised her hand and silently motioned for Tris to approach. "Scouts." Nathyrra explained when Tris was next to her.<p>

She pointed with her arm to the tunnel ahead of her, "Your mage is imprisoned in the cave ahead. It will be a difficult fight, a priestess of Lolth is present, along with her elite guard. The mage - he is tethered with magical chains, but if we manage to break them, I believe he will helps us fight his captors."

Tris silently nodded, listening to Nathyrra's advice. From what she had read about the drow and what she had seen so far, they were a notoriously xenophobic race, consumed with maintaining their own superiority over the other races of the Underdark and occasionally the surface. It felt surreal - teaming up with a drow to defeat others of her own kind, and Tris wondered if this talk of rebels was a sign of greater changes brewing within the world. She was curious about this one and why she so readily offered her help and she made a note to ask her more about the rebels once the mage was freed.

"I believe breaking the mage's chains shouldn't be a hard task." Tris said giving a wink to Deekin. "If you and I engage the drow, Deekin can sneak past them and use his mace on the chains. What do you think Deeks, up to the task?"

Deekin, never wanting to disappoint, held up the mace in his hands and stood up to full height of his small stature "Don't worry Tris, your faithful kobold companion be brave savior of crazy mage."

Nathyrra watched the exchange between the human and the kobold, and the trust the human placed on the creature. Her own kind had always treated kobolds as slaves for labor or sword fodder, it surprised her that the kobold displayed such loyalty in return for the kindness it had received and the exchange between the two had convinced her that the world did not run on cruelty alone. Perhaps the Seer was right, perhaps this outsider was what the rebels needed to show them a different way of existence.

"One more thing surfacer," Nathyrra said as they made their way down the tunnel into the cavern where the mage was held, "These drow do not know my true allegiance yet, I will go in first to distract the priestess, stay back until I attack, they will not know I am not alone, that is our advantage."

Nathyrra walked through the arch of the tunnel into the cavern ahead of her. Talabafay, the priestess, saw her and called out to her. "Nathyrra, you return! Where are the scouts I sent with you?"

"Dead." She answered. She kept walking, straight for the priestess, she reached for the throwing knives at her belt and the priestess immediately realized they had been betrayed. She put up a magical shield right as one of the knives struck it and backed away further into the protective shadows of the cavern. Two of her guards were not as lucky, the knives found their mark as they sank to the hilt at their throats.

"I always knew you would betray us, Nathyrra!" The priestess called out from the shadows, "Your prayers to the Spider Queen never sounded sincere!"

Talabafay's remaining guards surrounded Nathyrra, the sound of a cracking whip cut through the darkness and Nathyrra jerked her head as the tail end of the whip narrowly missed her face.

"You'll die here Nathyrra!" The priestess called out again, "A pity, you could have done greater things, instead you waste you talent on that heretic you call the Seer!"

Tris watched the events unfold from the shadows of the tunnel, her arrow trained on one of the guards. They had Nathyrra surrounded and now was as good a time as any to give her aid. She loosed one arrow and it struck the guard in the back, he jerked forward, stumbling, and fell dead at Nathyrra's feet. Without skipping a beat she sent another arrow flying, killing the guard next to him. They noticed her now and three of the guards ran back towards the tunnel to meet her. She took out Talon out of its scabbard and ran to meet the assailants. She ducked under the swing of the first drow, his sword cut through nothing but air and he stumbled, the momentum of his swing propelling him forward.

She met the second one head on as she blocked his swing, she followed up with a swing from Talon as she twisted around on her feet. The longsword's sharp edge sliced a deep gash in the drow's torso and he sank to his knees, she reversed the grip and plunged the tip of the sword deep into him, killing him.

Tris planted her boot on the chest of the dead drow and kicked out sliding Talon off and freeing the sword to block an attack from the third guard. The first one was now coming back for her and she swung around to block his attack as well. She stole a glance at Nathyrra and she saw that the drow was busy fighting the three remaining guards.

They heard the maniacal laughter of the priestess from the shadows, it was dripping with disdain and a certain amount of bemusement. It was obvious that the priestess was enjoying the gory melee unfolding in front of her. "I see you brought the surfacer with you Nathyrra, I will take great pleasure in killing you both. The Valsharess will be pleased greatly when I present the head of the so called prophesied Savior and the head of the traitor to her on a platter!" She cracked her whip again and it painfully slashed across Tris's back.

No one saw the small shadow of the kobold slide out from behind a rock and dart towards the shackled mage. Deekin desperately wanted to rush to Tris's side and help her with the drow, but he had a mission to complete and he didn't want to disappoint his human friend. He smashed the mace into the chains that held the mage with all the might his little body could muster. A burst of energy left the mage as soon as he was free and it rocked the cavern, raining rocks from the ceiling and knocking everyone off their feet. Halaster lost no time on his next spell and unleashed a meteor storm, raining molten rocks on top of the priestess and the remainder of her guard, killing them instantly.

Relieved that the battle was over, Tris limped over to Nathyrra and helped her up to her feet and then made her way over to the mage.

"Are you Halaster?" she asked, "The City of Waterdeep hired me to find you, it seems the drow have been using your dungeon as a gateway to the city."

Halaster didn't seem to pay any attention to her, he was pacing around the chains that held him down before, muttering to himself. "No! No! No! You weren't part of the plan! The Valsharess will not fall for the same trick again!"

"Pardon me?" She called out trying to get his attention.

He snapped his head to look at her, the expression on his face wild and crazed. "A perfect plan I had to kill the Valsharess, then you show up and make my strategy a giant mess!" He threw up his arms in frustration and went back to pacing around his former shackles. "No matter, I can still undo this error, perhaps I'll use the relic bearer." He stopped in his tracks his chin resting in one hand a thoughtful expression across his face. He turned back to look at Tris again.

Tris gripped Talon tight in her hands, she didn't know how the mage knew about the relic but the intense way he looked at her with his crazy eyes did not sit well with her. He was muttering something, Tris realized he was casting a spell but it was too late. A sprite of light formed in front of him and rushed straight at her, it went through her chest and disappeared inside her. She didn't feel a thing and for a moment she thought that perhaps the spell had misfired.

"What did you just do?" She asked him.

"I put a geas on you." He replied matter-of-factly. His rhyming was starting to frustrate her and she wondered if this was the reason for his madness.

"A geas?"

"You have no choice but do as I say! Deeper into Underdark you'll go today. You will not stop until you kill the Valsharess, only then the geas will be lifted in redress."

It was starting to finally sink in, the mage was using her, he was blackmailing her into killing the Valsharess, whoever she was. She didn't like having her arm twisted like this against her will and she felt deep anger bubble up deep inside her. She started for the mage but stopped suddenly, an overwhelming pain shot through her body like a bolt of lightning and squeezed at her heart deep inside her chest. She tumbled down to her knees, finding it hard to breathe, she clutched at her chest with one hand heaving deeply and struggling to gain control of the pain. Deekin ran up to her and stood between her and the mage protectively.

"Don't Deeks..." She managed to croak out and the kobold hopped over to her with a concerned look on his face. Nathyrra watched the exchange between the mage and the surfacer in confused silence, but she dared not interrupt the volatile mage.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Halaster wagged his finger at her "You cannot go against my will, the task I give to you, you will fulfill, once you have my task completed, only then I'll have the spell deleted!"

He chanted out another spell and a portal opened up beneath Tristin, swallowing her and Deekin whole. He then turned his attention on Nathyrra and opened up the same portal beneath her feet.

Satisfied with having solved the problem of the pesky drow in the most ingenuous way, Halaster opened up a portal back to his sanctuary beneath Waterdeep and stepped through. His dungeon was in complete disarray in his absence and he couldn't wait to get back and clean house.


	7. Lyth My'athar

Two figures stood over a large map draped over an oval table, studying the various markings that crisscrossed its surface. One was a drow, the markings on his armor indicated his high rank, and though his face was youthful, the shrewdness in his eyes hinted at his advanced age. The other one was tall and pale-faced, and he sported a full head of scarlet locks which he kept neatly gathered in a ponytail behind him, though these were not the only features that made him decidedly not-drow.

"Any news from Nathyrra?" The red-headed one asked.

"Her last report," the drow handed him a piece of paper, "She made contact with the one from the Seer's vision."

"Good." The man spoke as he folded the parchment after reading it, "Let us hope she returns with the surfacer."

"They will come." They heard the woman's voice, confident and reassuring. They turned to face her and bowed reverently to her as she entered the circular chamber. She walked across the floor, her staff guiding her and her long robes trailing behind her. Imloth, the drow, offered her his hand as she neared her armchair and helped her settle in.

"What news from our other scouts?" she asked.

Imloth never had the chance to go over the other reports. The room crackled with arcane energies as a portal opened up mid-air and spit out two figures. A moment later another portal opened up and spit out Nathyrra's familiar form.

* * *

><p>Tristin was free-falling through the planar gateway that the mage opened up beneath her feet. The sensation made her feel like her stomach was lodged inside her throat. This plane was devoid of any geographical features and the absence of a horizon disoriented her. Deekin desperately clung to her cloak, yowling at the top of his lungs. She finally saw a dot of light beneath her - it stretched out to open up into a dimly-lit chamber. She was flying in too fast and as she came out on the other side, she tried to do a barrel roll to lessen the impact of the oncoming wall. She miscalculated the distance and the force with which the portal spit her out and ended up forcefully hitting the wall with her backside.<p>

"That's going to leave a mark", she managed to groan out as she slid down, head first, to the stone floor below. Her billowing cloak flopped down on top of her, entangling her within its many folds.

When she finally managed to free herself from the clutches of the unwieldy garment she found herself staring at seven very sharp ends of swords and seven sets of very unfriendly drow eyes. She wondered if Halaster's insane plan involved sending her directly into the clutches of the Valsharess, the mage certainly had the flare for the dramatic if he lacked for subtlety. When Deekin came to and emerged from the folds of her cloak, she instinctively moved her arm to his side to block any attempts at attacking him. The kobold wisely held his tongue.

"Stay your hand Imloth," she heard Nathyrra's familiar voice "They are allies."

The one named Imloth replaced his sword back into its sheath and the others moved to do the same. They then parted and let Nathyrra through, she approached and offered Tris a hand.

"Come," she said, "There is someone you should meet."

Tristin took full stock of her surroundings as she rose to her feet and moved to follow Nathyrra. The room she found herself in looked familiar, it reminded her of the chapel she saw in her dream at the Yawning Portal though this one was curiously devoid of spiderwebs and other arachnid motifs. The dark marble walls were rough, it was as if someone took a chisel to the stone to remove all traces of the dark deity that was the center of drow culture.

On one end of the room was a circular dais with a tall armchair. Next to it was a table strewn with maps and various other papers. A drow woman sat on the chair, her features regal. A tall man stood next to her, clad in platemail with green enamel. He wasn't drow, his pale face, red hair and bright blue eyes made him stand out in the sea of black as much as Tris stood out among the drow that gathered here. A pair of small horns crowned his head, a fleshy tail that twitched in vague displeasure told Tris that he wasn't human.

"Mother Seer" Nathyrra said as she bent at the knee and bowed down reverently at the dais. "This is the one from your vision."

The woman smiled at her and rose from her chair to greet her. "I have waited for you Tristin Falke." The woman said, "You have haunted my visions as the savior that would help us tip the scales in our struggle to overthrow the Valsharess." As she spoke she looked into the distance, there was something off about this woman though Tristin couldn't quite put her finger on it.

The Seer kept talking about her visions of her and it made her head swim, Tris began to only half listen to her. She looked at her hands, they were caked in dirt and blood. She imagined how she must have looked to the drow that gathered here, her cloak was ripped in places and her borrowed armor sported a good amount of cuts and holes from the numerous run-ins she had with the drow and other denizens of Halaster's dungeon. She imagined she didn't smell very nice either. She started to feel every ache in her body and she realized how tired she was. She wasn't feeling very much like a savior right now. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers, trying to collect her thoughts.

She finally spoke up, interrupting the Seer's speech. "Forgive me...Seer. I have spent the last three weeks blindly stumbling through a mad mage's labyrinth, I've gathered a good share of cuts and bruises fighting drow commandos to find him. I am willing to give you aid but right now I could use a hot meal, good rest and a new set of armor." She found a hole in her jerkin made by a drow blade and stuck her finger through it, looping it through another tear right next to it. She wiggled the finger about for good effect as she said her last words.

The Seer smiled an apologetic smile. "I am a terrible host, forgive me, in my excitement to finally meet you I have forgotten the dangers of the path you took to get here. Nathyrra will show you to your quarters. We have much to discuss once you are well and rested."

"Come." Nathyrra said as she moved to the doorway out of the chapel. Tristin followed her and Deekin was right on her heels. He was curiously quiet and she noticed that the kobold had parchment out and was furiously scratching away on it with a quill. _No doubt recording all this for posterity_, Tristin thought. She threw a final glance at the Seer over her shoulder as she followed Nathyrra out of the chapel. Her eyes fell on the red headed man that stood next to her this whole time. He stared back at her with a scrutinizing gaze that made her feel uncomfortable. She quickly averted her eyes and picked up her pace to catch up to Nathyrra.

The Seer dismissed Imloth and rest of the guards. The Savior's arrival was a momentous occasion and she felt that war planning could wait until the excitement had died down. Only the tall red-headed man remained by her side. He finally spoke up when the last of the guard left their presence.

"A human, Seer?" His question was full of derision.

She nodded, sensing the source of his anger. "I do not choose my visions Valen." She said to him.

"I know," he said, "But I have met my share of humans in Sigil, Seer. They are a weak species, full of prejudice and fickle with their allegiances; if this one doesn't die down here I'm afraid she will betray us to save her own skin."

"Your mother was human, that makes you part human." She reminded him.

"My mother was a prostitute" he corrected. "And it's my human side that succumbs to my infernal urges." He spoke through gritted teeth.

"It is also your human side that fights the demon inside of you. I have known you since you were lost Valen, the human in you is stronger than he was when we first met." The wisdom of her words reminded him why he sought her out in the first place those years ago. He felt guilty for doubting her now and he wondered if these feelings of guilt and doubt were all part of what it meant to be human, he realized he still had a long way to go in taming his own impulses.

"Seer...I...I am sorry, I do not know this one, and you know well that my caution has saved our troops on more than one occasion."

She understood his ambivalence about relying on blind faith and visions alone and offered him a compromise "Get to know her then, perhaps you should work with her, if not to allay your suspicions, then to ensure she does not fail."

Valen, having made up his mind, bowed his head in leave and started for the door out of the chapel.

"Valen, wait." The Seer said as she placed her hand on his arm. "I have had another vision...It concerns you and the human girl."

He looked back at her, his brow creased.

"The vision...it was muddled." She spoke as she brought her hand up to her forehead trying to recall the details.

"It was as if two different events took place at the same time, I think it will take place a long time after the Valsharess is defeated. You will be faced with a difficult choice concerning your heritage. In one version of the events I see you betraying her and in the other you stand by her side. It is too early to know right now which outcome is the most likely one. I see too many paths converging at the same event and I think that when the time comes, your choice will be greatly influenced by the journey you take with her."

* * *

><p>The walk from the chapel to the guest house was a short one. Tristin looked around her as she followed Nathyrra and took in as many sights as she could. Dwellings were carved directly into the massive stalagmites that formed this settlement, making each structure as tall as a spire. The tops of some houses seamlessly blended into the gloom of the dark cave above her head. Mage lights illuminated each building in hues of reds, blues and purples, plunging the city into a dreamy haze of twilight. Tristin found Drow architecture to be strangely beautiful.<p>

They entered the guest house and Nathyrra led her up a flight of stairs. "Your room." She said as she finally reached a door on the second floor. Tris turned the handle on the door and moved to walk inside.

"Surfacer," Nathyrra spoke out "The mage - what he did to you...I am sorry, I had hoped you would meet the Seer in different circumstances." Her apology was strangely reassuring.

"Tristin, my name is Tristin." She reminded her and gave her a wan smile.

"Tristin." Nathyrra nodded and smiled back at her. "Rest well, there is much you will need to know once you are ready." She turned on her heel and disappeared down the staircase.

The room she was given was very lavish, Tristin decided that elves spared no expense on luxuries, no matter their heritage. A large round bed stood in one corner, in the other was a desk and a dresser. A screen separated a large marble tub from the rest of the room. Bronze pipes and spigots brought hot water to the tub and Tris marveled at the engineering that made it possible.

She let her pack fall to the floor and she slid out of her boots. The blisters on her feet were worn raw in a couple of places and it felt nice for once to stand barefoot on the cool marble floor. She turned a knob by the tub and let the stream of hot water fill the basin. She began peeling off the layers of her armor. She examined the jerkin and the doublet and the breeches and decided that the armor was undeniably unusable. She noticed the leather cracked in places, no doubt the armor spent years in storage without the proper care, she tossed it all in a heap in a corner. She then took off her inner garments and stood in front of a large polished silver mirror. Her body was a network of cuts and bruises. She examined the gash on her shoulder and it looked to be healing nicely, Deekin did a good job stitching her up. She turned around and examined her backside. A red welt formed across her back from the lash she received from the priestess, but the damage didn't look permanent. Below it, a large bruise had formed over her tailbone and she pressed on it lightly, feeling the pain of it and wondering if she cracked anything.

The tub was full by now and she needed to clean herself up before she could dress her wounds. She gingerly lowered herself into the hot water, feeling the burn of the water on her cuts and scrapes and raw blisters but the sensation was passing. Soon the warmth passed over her whole body and she sunk into the tub up to her chin, happy for the rare chance to relax.

She started to think over the recent events again. This was supposed to be a simple find and retrieve mission - by now she could have been back at the Yawning Portal, in a week she could have been back in the mountains pretending to be a hermit again. Instead she found herself thrust in the middle of a civil war among people she had very little knowledge of. She felt resentment towards the mage but the feeling was quickly replaced by a tightness in her chest, a reminder that the geas was still very much in place.

She then thought about the drow Seer and her talk of the vision she had about Tristin being some kind of messiah to these people, she wondered about how big a role the geas played in making the Seer's vision a reality. She decided she didn't like visions and prophesies and fortunes very much, they had a tendency to come true around her. She remembered Daschnaya, the Halfling fortune teller, and the look the woman gave her as she read out Tris the fortune displayed on the Tarot cards four years ago. That was shortly before she chased Heurodis into the desert. In hindsight everything Daschnaya told her has come true. She let out a sigh of resignation, letting the water bubble up around her mouth and sunk lower into the tub, submerging herself fully under the water.

It was a nice feeling - the weightlessness and the warmth. She felt like she was in a cocoon, the sounds of the outside world drowned out by the water. She couldn't stay like this forever though and emerged shortly, splashing some of the water over the rim of the tub. She grabbed the bar of soap from the stool that was beside the tub and began to methodically scrub every inch of her body. When she was done, she rinsed herself off and pulled the cork out of the bottom to let the turbid water drain. She pulled out a clean shirt and linens from her pack and dressed herself after she attended to the more serious injuries. She then took a wash basin that was on the dresser, filled it with more water and placed it on the floor by the stool.

She walked over to Deekin, who sat at the desk, busy scribbling away his impressions on everything that happened so far. She leaned over his shoulder and scanned his chicken scratch.

"Go wash up Deeks" She said as she sniffed the air. "You're starting to smell like your old master."

The kobold's face contorted in a wide grin and he was about to say something but she stopped him before he could make a comment "Trust me, it's not a very pleasant smell."

He hopped down from his chair and pattered over to the basin she set up for him behind the screen. She realized then that he had no place to rest his head, she slid out the bottom drawer of the dresser and emptied it of the linens inside. She took one of the larger pillows from the bed and stuffed it inside the drawer, making a makeshift bed for the kobold. She decided that the first thing she was going to demand when she was fully rested were separate lodgings for Deekin. Though she enjoyed his company she still valued her privacy and she feared some of her more private moments might make it into the kobold's journal.

She then slipped under the soft covers of the bed and fell asleep before her head hit the pillow.


	8. Mothers & Daughters

_A/N. I hope I have done the drow lore justice in this chapter, I have assigned an arbitrary name to the Seer and given a last name to Imloth simply because the game itself never provided one. I have used a name generator that WotC published for their Underdark campaign._

* * *

><p><em>The muddy stain on the light blue dress wasn't coming out. Tristin watched as mother frantically rubbed at the embroidered silk with a wet cloth. It wasn't helping, it only made the stain bigger, which made mother scrub at it harder.<em>

_"It's just a dress mamma, please stop." She asked pleadingly as she reached for her mother's hands. "I'll just wear the one you got me last year." That made mother even more upset - the tears in her eyes welled up and her lower lip quivered as she struggled to suppress a sob. _

_Tristin never understood her mother's obsession with frills and bows and long dresses. As far as she was concerned they weren't very practical for climbing trees and running around in the fields surrounding the estate. She had gotten the latest stain when she tripped over a rock and landed in a muddy ravine - she was in a hurry to get to the aerie, Lola's chicks were hatching and old man Gustav promised to imprint one of them on her and to start teaching her the art of falconry. _

_Now she was standing in her mother's room, hair disheveled, dirty hands, muddy boots and a ruined dress - a sore sight for mother's eyes. A duke and his sons were visiting the estate - apparently important people - and she had failed to look presentable. _

_"Gods child! When will you grow out of your juvenile fantasies about knights and heroes and start acting like a lady?" _

_Tris couldn't help but roll her eyes at that remark, she let out an exaggerated sigh. It was an argument they had many times, and neither one of them seemed to ever win. It was a fundamental difference in opinion and they argued on the point until one of them was too tired to argue anymore. _

_A loud tinkling of chimes somewhere behind her made her turn her head but all she faced was a polished mirror and an image of a thirteen year old child looking back at her. She struck out her tongue and giggled at her reflection. _

_When she turned back around, she found herself standing on the edge of a cliff in the Nether Mountains outside the cave she used as shelter. Ajax was circling in the clouds above and she placed a hand to shield her eyes from the sun as she watched the bird do a circuit, she remembered him when he was still a chick, last to hatch and definitely the runt. _

_She heard a set of chimes again but it was interrupted by Deekin's lute playing somewhere close by, it was out of tune and she could hear him trying to make it sing harmoniously. She went to look for him but he was nowhere in sight, the sound of the plucking strings refused to die down however and it started to drive her mad. She darted out from her hidden lodge into the bushes and started running through the thick brush trying to locate the sound. The branches were whipping at her face and she kept flailing her arms protectively in front of her, she was fighting to keep the branches out of her eyes and the next minute she found herself fighting the silken sheets of her bed. _

It was only a dream.

Tristin woke up to the sound of Deekin tuning his lute and humming about what sounded like the beginnings of a new ditty. She rolled out of bed, head still heavy from sleep, and ambled over to the wash basin, her legs still sore and muscles stiff.

She turned a knob to fill the basin and then dunked her head into the icy water, letting the prickling sensation chase the drowsiness away.

_What an odd dream to have. I haven't dreamt about mother in a long time. _

Deekin stopped playing and she found him standing by her side holding up a cloth to dry off her face.

"How long was I out?" she asked.

"Deekin not sure Tris, but drow lady come in earlier, she bring yous new armor."

Tris looked over to the armor stand that wasn't there before and the set of armor displayed on it. She walked over to examine it, Deekin trailing behind her.

"Deekin gets bored so Deekin make new song up."

"What about?" She asked, indulging him, as she ran her fingers along the soft leather of the armor.

"About hero that sleeps through everything, even dragon roar."

She raised an eyebrow and wondered if she was the unwitting inspiration for the ditty but decided not to press further. The new set of armor held far more interest for her now. It was tar black, a fitting color for he darkness of caves, the leather supple, yet strong. It was reinforced with a chain link mesh underneath - _Mithril?__No, __Adamantite_ - and lined with quilted silk. The soles of the boots were soft and pliant - perfect for stealth. The cloak, dark and made of silk, reminded her of the cloak she had seen Nathyrra and the other drow wear and she realized this was the unique garment worn by the dark elves to hide their presence in the Underdark.

A sudden rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she has not eaten in a while.

"You hungry Deeks?" She asked as she took the armor off the stand and started to get dressed.

The kobold smacked his lips together at the thought of some much needed grub "Deekin hopes there be pie, Deekin's old master liked pie."

When she was dressed she checked herself in the mirror, and pleased with the way the armor fit her form went for the door. It was a girlish act of vanity that she had picked up from her mother a long time ago - one of the only traits that seemed to have stuck around. _A __good __impression __will __carry __you __farther __than __a __full __coin __purse_, she still heard that vaguely admonishing voice in her head and the thought of her mother, her brow forever creased in disapproval, brought a hint of a wistful smile to her face.

They stepped out into the hallway to find a guard posted at the door, he gave her a cursory glance and then followed her down the stairs. She wondered if he was there to keep an eye on her or to report on her. _Gone __to __report __on __me_, she thought as she saw him walk past her into the common room and out the door onto the streets.

She let her gaze travel over the faces that gathered in the commons. She was met with stares and hushed whispers, some gave her looks of appraisal as if to weigh the real person against a vision of a savior that was given to them by their leader. She met the eyes of a woman that sat at a table in a corner and was given a nod and an offer of a seat next to her.

Tris went up to the elf behind the bar, she wasn't sure what passed for food around here. "Two of your most popular dish." She asked him and hoped she wasn't going to get poisoned. She went over to the woman that acknowledged her earlier.

"Do I know you?" she asked the woman as she sat opposite her.

"No, but perhaps you should, I am Zesyyr Mae'vir" the drow offered "and I have a proposition to you." The woman glanced at Deekin and her face contorted in vague disgust "Perhaps you should tell that filthy creature to stand somewhere else."

"Deekin goes where I go, if you have something to say, he will hear you out just as well."

The woman scowled in disapproval, "Very well," she leaned in closer to make sure the others couldn't hear her, "Not everyone here follows the Seer, some are still loyal to the Valsharess, House Mae'vir, the ruling house of Lith My'Athar, chief among the dissenters."

"Your house."

"Very good, you've been paying attention." the woman said, as a satisfied grin spread across her face. "As long as my mother is the head of the house, it will remain loyal to the Valsharess, kill my mother and I will guarantee you the full support of House Mae'vir."

Tris raised her brow at the unabashed audacity of the request she just received. "You mistake me for someone I'm not, I'm not a murderer. Does the Seer know of House Mae'vir's loyalties?"

"Even if she does, she will do nothing. She claims to want to bring change but she is too soft, she is unwilling to do what must be done no matter how difficult that deed is."

"Murder is not going to solve anything, if there is proof of your mother's treachery then bring her to justice."

"Justice?" the woman scoffed, "You know nothing about drow justice!" her whisper began to take on a tone of hushed crescendo and the woman struggled to keep her voice down, she began to sound indignant.

"A noble house attacks another to exact revenge on some forgotten offence, they war with each other under the vague pretence of justice until only one remains standing to loot the spoils of their war- that's the reality of drow justice. My mother, trapped in her own house by a city she is supposed to rule, banned her own daughter from the house because she is afraid of the influence that I exact over the household."

"My mother..." Zesyyr clammed up. The elf from the bar had brought Tris and Deekin their meal. She watched in silence as he placed the food on the table and she waited until he was back out of earshot.

"My mother fears change and fears losing her station, she clings to the old ways and hopes to regain that which she had lost - power and favor of a dying deity. She has allied herself with the Valsharess and so she waits and bides her time. When the Valsharess and her armies march on Lith My'Athar my mother will stage a coup from inside the city walls and this rebellion will die before it has the chance to spread to other cities. What kind of justice do you think the rebels will get when the city falls? Certainly not the swift and merciful kind."

"I cannot do what you ask of me on your word alone, is there any proof of your mother's treachery?"

"Of course there is proof!" She spat out. "Letters from the Valsharess – she hides them close to herself and she will not part with them willingly, which is why this must be done."

Tris sat at the table silent, weighing the possible outcomes of getting involved. She secretly wished Leland was here to give her advice. This rebellion and now a power struggle between a mother and daughter sounded too much like political maneuvering. All she had experience with was saving the world from certain destruction so that time and history could march on. Influencing the course of history? That was the Harpers' business and she felt completely out of her element. At least Leland would have known what to do.

The woman saw her hesitation. "Consider this. I know the precarious situation the mage put you in. You have no choice but to fight the Valsharess. Fighting her will become much harder if my mother stays in power. It is in your own best interest to kill my mother to make the weight of the geas easier on you."

Tris glared at her, how much did this woman know? She couldn't ignore her words however, she felt the gnawing sensation, an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach that the matron of house Mae'vir needed to die. It was as if the geas knew the truth of the words that Zesyyr spoke.

"I..I will consider your request" she said as she studied her plate. She had a hard time saying those words, the power of the geas was pressing down on her, urging her to action, "I'll do everything in my power to fight the Valshares, but you must allow me to help you in my own way."

Zesyyr looked at her intently with her piercing red eyes, "Do what you must, but do it quickly, it will be too late when the Valsharess marches on the city." She got up and left Tris and Deekin to finish their meal.

She wasn't sure what she ate, something that tasted like meat and mushrooms but it didn't matter to her right now, the meeting with Zesyyr and the geas' nagging presence made her lose her appetite. She finished her meal mirthlessly if for nothing else but to put some sustenance inside of her.

Nathyrra came for her not long after Zesyyr left and together they stepped onto the streets of Lith My'Athar. It was strange to find the city in the same state of dreamy gloom as it was when she first emerged onto the streets. It was as if the city was suspended in a timeless state of limbo. _Is __this __how __the __elves __keep __their __lives __so __long?_ She thought to herself, _by __creating __a __sense __of __timelessness __around __themselves?_ She felt disoriented and a pressing thought about keeping time wormed its way into her head.

"How long was I out?" She asked Nathyrra this time.

"A cycle."

Tris wasn't sure what she meant, in fact she knew very little about the dark elves, the books in Drogan's library were scant on information about drow, mostly because they rarely came up to he surface and very little was known about them. "That brings me to my next question, how do you keep track of the passage of time down here?"

Nathyrra stopped walking, she turned and pointed to the tallest stalagmite in the center of the city and the ring of mage fire that formed close to its base. "Every drow settlement has one" she said "the ring of fire will go up as a day progresses and when it has reached the apex it will float back down signaling the end of the cycle. Each day the archmage of the city relights the fire anew. It is an ancient ritual and a sacred right, some consider it to be the highest honor to be bestowed on a male - to be the keeper of our time. The Narbondel, the timepiece of Menzoberranzan, is by far the most impressive sight you will ever see down here. You could see its amaranthine glow, piercing the darkness like a beacon, far out in the wilderness of the Underdark."

Her voice trailed off as if some distant memory found its way into her thoughts. She started to walk again. "Come on, the Seer is waiting."

They were back in the barren chapel in no time. The Seer sat in her chair at the dais. The elf named Imloth and the red-haired giant stood by the oval table studying the map and conversing in hushed tones.

All eyes fell on Tris as she followed Nathyrra in. She kept her head high, like mother always taught, as she strode into the room behind Nathyrra keeping her eyes on the Seer, and hoped that she appeared confident to all that gathered here.

When they were finally at the dais Tris bowed her head in a respectful greeting.

"I trust you are well rested." the Seer spoke first. "I hope your lodgings were adequate."

"They are better than most places I have had a chance to rest my head." Tris admitted as a slight smile of gratitude formed around the corners of her mouth. "And the armor - the gift is most gracious of you but I'm afraid I haven't done anything yet to deserve it."

"It is the least we could do for what it took for you to get here." The woman said in a knowing voice, though by no means a patronizing one. "I think introductions are in order."

"I am Erel'ffyn Do'Ana, or the Seer, I'm the spiritual leader to the rebels, my communion with Ellistraee guides our path, it is my goddess who revealed you to me."

"You have met Nathyrra," the drow continued and Tris looked back at Nathyrra as she was re-introduced, "her vast network of spies has kept us well informed of the Valsharess's plans."

"Imloth De'Lyl," the Seer swept her arm in the general direction of the oval table to her side, the male dark elf nodded his head at the introduction "the general of our rebel army."

"And lastly Valen Shadowbreath, our weapon master, he trains our troops and helps with the tactical planning, his knowledge of battlefields and the terrain of the Underdark has been invaluable" the Seer announced the red-headed giant. He stood by the table motionless with his arms folded in front of him, he stared at Tris with his piercing blue eyes, his expression stony and unreadable.

"No doubt you have many questions, I will answer everything as best as I can" The Seer finally finished.

As the Seer spoke, Tris took the time study her. The woman wore her hair down and gracefully long. She leaned on her staff for support and she stared at a point slightly behind Tris's back. Her eyes did not sparkle like the rest of the drow, instead they carried a dull sheen as if they were two unpolished gems. Her mannerisms reminded Tris of a blind Bedine elder she met in the desert and then it dawned on her that the Seer was physically blind. Her sudden realization made her forget her manners and she blurted out the obvious fact.

"You are blind."

"Yes, the price I paid for the gift of foresight" the drow admitted, "Though by no means am I helpless, my goddess protects me and in return I am the voice that sings her song."

"Ellistraee?" Tristin asked. The only goddess she had known the drow to worship was Lolth - a vengeful and capricious deity that reveled in pain and suffering. She didn't know this Ellistrae and wondered if the goddess was in any way similar to Lolth.

"Our lore teaches us that she is the daughter of Corellon Larethian and Araushnee, she who is also known as Lolth. She was tricked by her mother to fight in a war against the Seldarine and she willingly accepted her punishment even if she was not to blame for her involvement so that she could be the beacon of good within the dark world of our people. She fights Lolth to free the dark elves from the clutches of the Spider Queen. We fight for the freedom to one day return to Arvandor."

A mother and daughter locked in a power struggle, Tristin heard the tale earlier today and the irony of life imitating legend did not get lost on her. She remembered the dream about the dress and suddenly her own petty arguments with her mother seemed insignificant in light of the situation the rebels were in. She was relieved to know at least that she was not forced to aide a grievous cause.

"I will aid you how I can," she said resignedly "Just tell me what you require of me."


	9. Valen

Goatman.

That was what Deekin had called the tall, red-headed man, the one named Valen.

They were walking through the streets of Lyth My'Athar, Valen leading the way. It was decided that Tristin, with her skill as a tracker would best help the rebels outside the city walls. Valen offered his help as her guide and she willingly accepted his offer. Considering her previous encounters with the drow, she knew that there were far worse things in the Underdark and by the looks of it the man was more than capable of holding his own weight against whatever dared cross his path.

The kobold, in his childlike curiosity, had walked up to Valen, craning his neck to look up at the giant and, his eyes as wide as saucers, had asked the offending question in earnest "Why yous got horns and tail? Yous be part goat?"

Valen stopped and looked down at the kobold, something flashed in his eyes, and there was a fleeting emotion across his face - was it loathing? - but it returned to the same expressionless mask as before.

"No kobold, I'm far worse than that." He said as he looked down on Deekin.

Valen was a tiefling, a product of mixing human blood with that of a creature from the lower planes, a demon or a devil. Master Drogan's library included plenty of information on the denizens of the lower planes and their offspring as mages often made contact with such creatures and he being a Harper required that he was knowledgeable on such matters. Tristin remembered her encounter with J'Nah, the half elven, half demon creature in the service of Heurodis and she wondered if Valen was in any way similar to her.

_Well he's helping the drow rebels, so I guess that puts us on the same side. _

Deekin, intimidated by Valen's immense stature and withering look, slinked back over to Tristin's side.

"Tris, why goatman be so mean? Deekin not sure he likes us."

She shrugged in response. She found the tiefling to be surly, he hardly said anything throughout the meeting with the Seer, and when he addressed Tristin there was a hint of condescension in his clipped tone.

"I'm not sure Deekin, perhaps it is his infernal blood that makes him so disagreeable. Remember Xanos? He was half-orc and had a temper to show for it...pity it killed him in the end..."

The expression on Tristin's face became thoughtful at the memory of the half-orc sorcerer and she didn't notice Valen slow his stride to walk beside her. As they came by an alley, he grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her into the narrow street. She stumbled and let out a short yelp of surprise at the unexpected move.

"Lets make one thing clear, human. The Seer may put her complete faith in you but I don't trust you. You do anything to compromise our cause and I will personally make sure you never see the light of day." He was glowering at her and his grip on her elbow was strong.

She didn't appreciate the manhandling and the sudden accusation she was getting from someone she was supposed to be helping. If she was going to have him watch her back she needed him on her side. At least it was clear that he was a firm believer in the Seer's cause, making him a believer in her was going to be a challenge since he already seemed to have made up his mind about her.

She stared back at him hard, gauging his mood, then looked to where he was gripping her elbow and turned her gaze on him again as she wrested her arm out of his vice-like hold.

"You know, for someone so intent on chasing threats to the Seer you fail to see the conspiracy brewing within your own city walls." She said looking at him, refusing to let his sudden outburst intimidate her.

He narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. "What are you talking about?"

_Hells!_ She had completely forgotten about her encounter with Zesyyr until now. _Well now is as good a time as any to get this out in the open. _

"House Mae'Vir - Zesyyr came to see me before the meeting with the Seer. She asked me to kill her mother, do you know why?" Her eyes narrowed as she asked the question. "House Mae'Vir plans a slaughter inside the city walls when the Valsharess is at the city gates." She felt a certain amount of satisfaction as she saw a fleeting moment of recognition and surprise flicker across his face.

"Why haven't you said anything earlier?" He asked her accusingly.

"Unlike you, I don't make it a habit of accusing people of deceit when I first meet them," she said as she forcefully poked his breastplate with her index finger. "Besides, for all I know, she could have tried to use me for her own gain." That wasn't entirely true, and the geas squeezed at her heart to remind her of that, though she tried her hardest not to show the tiefling her discomfort.

Valen let out a curse under his breath.

"Come on." He said as he walked onto the street again, picking up his pace once more. He walked the rest of the way to the docks in silence. When they reached the row of slips that jutted out into the murky water, he let down his pack by a large boat and turned to address Tristin again.

"Wait here, I won't be long." He sounded more subdued this time. He turned around and walked back into the city.

He found Nathyrra still with the Seer and was glad that she has not yet left on one of her scouting runs. He pulled her aside and relayed what the newcomer had told him.

"House Mae'vir has always been the wild card." She noted "I will look into it."

She watched him walk back out onto the streets and she noted the stiffness in his gait. Her heat-sensing eyes picked up the brighter spectrum of reds and ambers of his silhouette and the quickened pace of his pulse. She had observed him this way since the surfacer's arrival and she found amusement in the way he hid his agitation behind a mask of indifference. A wry smile found its way to her lips and she shook her head in bemusement at the thought that he could not hide anything from her observant eyes. _The body betrays what the mind tries to keep hidden._

Valen's mind was in a turmoil. He was still unsure how the girl had managed to turn the tables on him without so much as a flinch.

He had hoped to put some fear in her, instead he got an earful of an indignant lecture about his trust issues. She had somehow managed to make him feel guilt and it wasn't a feeling he particularly liked. She was unlike any other human he has met before and it made him feel uncomfortable because he didn't know how to deal with the emotions she stirred within him. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that the girl commanded respect without really putting much effort into it.

Only two other people have made him feel this way - one was long dead, a memory he has buried deep inside himself because remembering her brought up other, less savory memories from a past he wished to forget.

Then there was the Seer. She had found him when he thought himself long lost to the battle-lust that his demon half demanded of him. He remembered the first time he met her and the memory has since become a lifeline for the times when his rage threatened to overwhelm his sense of self and it made him a devoted follower of her cause.

_He is summoned, along with his master, to fight and kill. It doesn't matter to him whom he kills and whom he fights for as long as the battle-lust that drummed within him is satiated. His vision flooded in a red haze of bloodlust, he lets his eyes wander over the battlefield that sprawls before him. It is not unlike other battlefields he fought in, a sea of faceless soldiers ready to die at his hand, and he shudders at the anticipation of the carnage he will partake in. _

_And then he sees her, a white beacon invading his field of vision, a pale fire that sears the red haze in his eyes and he can't help but shield them when he first looks at her. The demon inside him demands that he take her life and at that moment he wants nothing but to be the one to extinguish her flame, to snuff out her existence, and so with a violent roar he charges at her across the battlefield, leaving a bloody path in his wake. _

_He hears her song, barely audible at first, but then it gets so loud that its beautiful lament drowns out the drums of his bloodlust and when he is almost upon her he stops, confused at first why he can't bring himself to lift his hand and strike at her. She looks at him with her sightless eyes and sees beyond the battle mask a lost boy, afraid of what he has become. _

_He stands in front of her not knowing why she doesn't strike, why she does not charge at him like he charged at her. "Fight me!" he screams but she just stands there and sings her beautiful song. He falls to his knees, confused why his resolve is so weak all of a sudden and she approaches him and embraces him and cradles him gently. She places a soft kiss on his forehead, and whispers a name that he thought he had forgotten "My life is not yours to take, Valen Shadowbreath. When you are free of your bonds, find me and take your place by my side as my champion." And then the chain that binds him to his master is pulled back hard and he is dragged back into the abyss he was summoned from. _

He didn't realize that he had already walked back to the docks and a sudden peal of earnest laughter rang out clear as a bell bringing him out of his reverie. He looked up to see Tristin and her kobold companion engaged in some kind of game of slap-a-hands where he tried to slap her hands before she jerked them safely back to her sides. She threw back her head and let out another peal of laughter as Deekin tried unsuccessfully to catch her hands.

The kobold saw Valen first and shied away behind Tristin's pack. Still laughing, she turned her head to see what made Deekin stop the game and met Valen's eyes. The look on his face must have must have been disapproving because she stopped laughing and the smile on her face slowly faded as she got back up to her feet.

The sound of her laugh, unguarded and genuine, must have reached out and touched another long-forgotten memory within him and he found himself suddenly wishing to hear her laugh again. He steeled himself and pushed the notion away. _Showing emotion is weakness_, he reminded himself. His former master used it to break him and he had promised himself a long time ago that he would not be so weak ever again.

"I told Nathyrra what you told me, and you have my gratitude for your honesty." He told her as he went to pick up his pack. "She is looking into House Mae'Vir. Come, Cavallas is waiting."


	10. The Ferryman

The ferryboat was a marvelous construction; it was a bireme, rare on the surface as most large river boats relied on the winds to move them from place to place. Rarer still, it required no crew to operate, its sixteen oars moved in unison with the aid of mechanical cogs and wheels and only needed the captain to wind up the mechanism to start the journey.

Cavallas stood in the back and operated the wheel that steered the oars. He was a Yuan-Ti and he wore a heavy hood over his face to hide the truth, in fact he covered himself up from head to toe, only his serpentine eyes and sibilant speech gave away his heritage.

Valen, Tristin and Deekin sat in the middle of the boat on the bench provided by the ferryman. Deekin seemed to have warmed up to Valen once again and was back to asking all sorts of embarrassing questions and recording every huff and every curt answer he was given.

Valen did his best impression of a surly tiefling though his scowl did little to encourage the kobold to leave him alone. Finally fed up with having to humor him and having exhausted his patience to keep telling Deekin to go bother someone else, he turned to Tris, "Tell your kobold to stop calling me goatman."

"Good luck with that, took me a while to teach him to stop calling me Boss." She got up to approach the bow of the boat. "Besides, he's not my kobold, he's got a name, show some respect and use it, and maybe he'll return the gesture one day."

She was glad for the opportunity to leave their company behind for a while. Deekin's chatter and Valen's disposition toward the kobold made her head swim and she had no desire to be caught up in the middle of a childish argument that she would most likely end up breaking up.

She leaned over the railing, and studied the glassy surface of the dark waters that stretched out before her, the lake was deceptively calm and she wondered what kind of creatures lived beneath the surface of the murky waters, and so she closed her eyes and let her mind wander and submerge itself under the lake's surface.

She felt a million tiny heartbeats, clamoring in unison and it reminded her of the cricket chatter she liked to listen to on warm summer nights in the valleys of the Nether Mountains. She smiled at the thought that even when the caverns of the Underdark were seemingly deserted, its lakes and rivers were still teeming with life. And then beneath the din of a million heartbeats she felt a slow-marching pulse, a steady cadence that the rest of the underwater life seemed to follow. She concentrated her mind on this new life form and was surprised at how easily it let her connect to its thoughts. She felt a consciousness that was intelligent and ancient. What are you, she found herself wandering, and as if to answer, her mind's eye saw a goliath, fleshy and shaped like an arrowhead with eight sinewy appendages constantly moving to help the creature stay afloat. And then she saw an image of the belly of the ferryboat, slowly moving closer, and she saw herself staring at the waters beneath and she realized that the creature was looking directly at her.

Startled, she staggered back away from the railing and the water's edge. Valen was by her side in no time, stopping her fall with a firm grip on her elbow.

"What do you think you're doing?" she heard him say in his usual displeased way.

_If __he's __showing __concern,__he __has __a __strange __way __of __showing __it_, she thought to herself. "Nothing." She said as she righted herself, "I'm fine, thanks for asking."

She heard Cavallas laughing, it was a snakelike hiss, entirely unpleasant.

"Ahs-hs-hs-hs-hs! I see the human has the gift of empathy, how peculiar!" His sibilant voice carried across the boat and oddly, his snakelike eyes were full of mirth at the discovery. "Ternoc has never met a human before, he finds you...interesting, Tristin Falke. He sends his greetings."

"Is that what the kraken calls itself?"

The ferryman nodded. "You know your magical beasts."

"I had a good teacher." She said.

Still unnerved at the unexpected communion with the kraken, Tristin wished to take her mind off the knowledge that a creature, immensely powerful, was now no doubt following them, and so with a final glance at the waters beneath the boat she turned away from the railing and moved to Cavallas's side. She needed to talk to someone to distract herself from the disturbing path her thoughts seemed to take, Deekin was busy annoying Valen and the tiefling seemed in no mood to answer anyone's questions so that left the ferryman.

"Ternoc - is he your companion?" She asked, wishing to know if her relationship with Ajax was in any way similar to what the ferryman seemed to share with the kraken.

"Ahs-hs-hs-hs-hs!" There was that snakelike chuckle again. "Ternoc and I share the same waters, I bring him news of what happens above water and in return he shares secrets of the deep with me but I cannot command him like I would a familiar, we are more like neighbors, he keeps me company on long trips."

Cavallas must have seen the apprehension on Tristin's face. "Do not worry yourself, he will not attack us. He follows us but he is merely curious."

He studied her out of the corner of his eye, all the while keeping a steady hand on the wheel. Humans were rare in the Underdark, and most were just slaves. A free and armed human in these caves was truly someone special, the revelation that this one could commune with animals had confirmed Cavallas's suspicions when he first laid his eyes on her. And something told him that the longsword strapped to her back wasn't just for show.

He noticed a large feather looped through one of the button holes on the armor and how she seemed to absent mindedly stroke it along its length. He could tell that the feather meant something to the girl. "Tell me about the feather." He broke his silence.

She looked down to where the feather was and her fingers stopped at the tip, she must have realized that she was unconsciously playing with it. She looked at it with her brow creased and then pulled it out of its loop and twirled it between her fingers as she studied it again.

"It belongs to Ajax - my animal companion on the surface. We had to part ways, birds don't belong in caves." She said as she looked up and around at the stalactites hanging from the cavern roof. "It was he who helped me discover and hone my talent for empathy."

She turned to look at Cavallas. "I hear all Yuan-Ti have that as their innate ability."

Cavallas nodded at her. "Snake charmers we are called, a popular market trick in Calimshan to impress the visitors and help relieve them of their heavy coin purses." The corners of his eyes creased in what could only be a hint to a mischievous smile.

"Is that where you are from?"

"I visited once, though my kind prefers the darkness of the Underdark, safer for the malison and abominations."

"Tell me then, where does a Yuan-Ti stand in this war?"

She noticed Valen shift in his seat as if to get a better grasp on her conversation with Cavallas.

"If you are looking for allies, you're looking in the wrong place human. My people prefer to stay out of drow squabbles."

"I didn't ask the opinion of your people, I asked where you stand, you are obviously helping the rebels by supplying them with information on any movements about and around this lake, what's to stop you from supplying the same to the Valsharess?"

The ferryman stood by the wheel in silence for a time, choosing his words. "Drow are formidable warriors." He finally broke his silence. "Drow united under the Valsharess' banner are a scourge on Toril. She threatens not only the Seer's way of life, she threatens the whole of Underdark and once she conquers these caverns she will not stop until she has the whole of Toril under her thumb. It is unfortunate that my brethren fail to see that."

Tristin sat by Cavallas's side digesting everything he had divulged to her and they traveled in silence for a while. Deekin seemed to have exhausted his line of questions to the tiefling and was busy scribbling away in his journal. Valen sat motionless on front of her, if she didn't know any better he might have been a statue. Only the rhythmic splash of the oars seemed to make any sound on the lake.

"Land Ho." Cavallas finally spoke. Tristin and Valen looked up and they saw an outline of a dark and large mound looming on the horizon. A bright dot of a campfire was visible somewhere up the middle of the island.

Tristin pointed towards the dot. "You see that?"

Valen noded. "Must be the deurgar scavengers Cavallas mentioned."

"Tell me about the island again." She asked.

"The Maker's Island, holds the tomb of some ancient wizard. Our own scouts have never been able to find the entrance, the fact that there is a campfire, someone must have found something."


	11. The Guardian

The Custodian looked at the intruders with its unblinking eyes. These were different from the ones that the Guardian drove out earlier, two of them were taller and fair-skinned, and the third one looked like a lizard and had a tail.

_No matter_, the Custodian had decided, _the Guardian will protect, the Maker is safe, return to tending the halls._

It opened up its comically large mouth and somewhere from the deep recesses of its gullet it let out the only sound it knew how to make. "Sinth Thesti" It croaked out in a flat voice, then clamped its jaw back up, turned around and lumbered back into the dimly lit hallway.

Tristin and Valen watched as the flesh golem disappeared down the corridor. It was a patchwork of mismatched body parts, its muscled legs were far too short for its body, which was slumped over, and its arms were so long that the knuckles Of its hands scraped the floor as it shuffled along.

_Golems, why did it have to be golems? _Tristin thought to herself. She'd had a bad run in with golems in Undertide four years ago which resulted in Xanos's death and several of her own broken bones, which still bothered her on rainy days. The memory sent an unpleasant chill down her spine, she gulped it down and steeled herself against it. _You can do this,_ she had to remind herself.

She saw Valen unstrap his double headed flail, and move to follow the golem. She stopped him with a firm grip on his wrist.

"We take it slow, we don't know what's down here, or do you prefer to be killed down here?"

He gave her a scowl but he knew she was right, "Very well, lead on, ranger."

Tristin took in their surroundings, they were in a square-like atrium, lined with columns, it split into two hallways on the opposite side of the entrance. She looked down one and then down the other corridor, they both looked identical. A heavy reinforced iron door stood to the side of the entrance.

She went to examine it. There ware no obvious traps and no keyhole in it, and when she pushed and pulled the knob in all directions, the door wouldn't budge.

"Hey Deeks, come take a look at the door, what do you make of it?"

The kobold hobbled over to her side, and examined the door with great interest, sniffing at the knob and the hinges. He let out a sneeze and rubbed at his snout with his hands.

"Locked with magics." He concluded.

"Can you unlock it?" She asked him.

He scratched at his chin in contemplation. "Hmm..." he shook his head from side to side finally, "Too strong for Deekin, maybe there be clues further in dungeons." He offered.

Tris looked back at the two hallways. She took out a piece of charcoal and marked a wall in the atrium as having been explored. It was a useful trick for exploring labyrinthine dungeons master Drogan taught her, easier to find her bearings if she ever got lost. She then turned to the corridor where the flesh golem disappeared and motioned for Valen and Deekin to follow her.

The hallway wasn't too long, they could see it curve into a bend as they approached the middle point. There was a door on the other side of the hall. A steady clank-clank-clanking was heard coming from around the bend and the sputtering torches on made the shadows dance ominously on the walls.

The clanking was getting louder and then Tris saw that a large shadow was creeping along the wall in tune to the clatter. Something large and heavy was moving closer, they had nowhere to hide in the hallway so all they could do was press themselves tightly against the inner wall and become as still as the stone itself. They watched silently as the shadow turned into a large metal-clad golem. It stopped at the bend and then ponderously turned into the hall and made its way slowly towards the entrance of the tomb. It did not seem to notice them, and Tristin let out a breath of relief she did not know she was holding, hardly believing their good fortune.

Alas, Lady Luck is a fickle mistress and she enjoys throwing challenges at enterprising adventurers when they least expect it. It was at that moment that a gust of wind went through the halls of the Maker's Cairn, sending motes of dust sailing through the air and up the snout of a certain kobold bard. Deekin did his best to keep quiet, he even went so far as clamping his reptilian muzzle shut with his hands, but it did him no good in the end. He let out a sneeze that traveled far and echoed through the deep recesses of the tomb. When the last of the echoes subsided, the golem turned its helmet-head to the origin of the sound and it immediately saw the intruders. It let put a metallic screech that sounded like rusty metal plates grinding against each other, took on a charging stance, and launched at the intruders with its plated arms swinging.

"Back to the atrium!" Tristin yelled and took off in the direction of the entrance.

She knew fighting the construct would be hopeless in the narrow hallway, at least the entrance was wide enough to give her and the tiefling room to evade the golem's punches. She hoped that Valen saw it that way too and stole a quick glance back. She saw him swing his flail low at the golem's shins and then take off after her and Deekin. The golem stumbled, giving them time to run into the entrance hall. It followed soon after at full speed and its impetus carried it to a crashing stop at the far wall, leaving a big dent in the crumbling masonry and destroying one of the columns in the process. Tristin silently hoped it wasn't a support column or they would really be buried in this place.

She saw Valen engage the construct, launching himself fearlessly at it and swinging his flail in the process. The golem's strong arms were able to deflect the tiefling's blows and it followed up with an attack of its own. Valen effortlessly dodged the golem's swings. For someone wearing plate mail and flinging the heavy flail around he was remarkably agile.

The golem had its back to Tristin and she saw her chance. Its metal chassis warped where a piece of the column had fallen on top of it when it crashed into the atrium and Tristin noted the glow of the core that powered the construct's movements. Destroying the core, they would destroy the golem, she just needed to get to it.

"Xanos I hope you're watching because I'm about to do something far crazier than you have ever done." She muttered to herself and took off to scramble up the golem's back, hardly believing her own courage. She thrust her longsword inside the carapace and balanced her feet on the golem's shoulders, she used her weapon like a lever to try and pry open the golem's back plate.

That caused the golem to jerk up, making Tristin lose her footing and swing around haplessly while holding onto the hilt of her sword. She felt a massive hand close around the collar of her armor and then she was flung across the room into the rubble of the broken column and dent in the wall. She scrambled to get up but her feet slipped on the debris and she found herself sitting helplessly, her body numb from the impact and her ears ringing as the golem's massive fist headed straight for her head.

Xanos's death flashed in front of her eyes. She saw his headless torso lying in the rubble of Undertide, bits and pieces of his head smeared across the wall behind him, a guardian golem, not unlike the one they were fighting now, stood over his body. _Well Xanos, that massive fireball certainly got it to pay attention to you. I probably overdid it too haven't I?_, she thought to no one in particular. _I wonder if the Reaper will be able to put me back together again after this scrape._ She watched the iron fist advance and a crooked smile formed on her lips at the thought of the grim task the Reaper had ahead of him.

The fist stopped a fingerbreadth away from her face. As the ringing in her ears subsided, she heard Valen cursing up a storm and yelling for her to move. She turned her head to the sound and she saw him gripping the golem's arm by the elbow. His normally stony expression was replaced by a mask of rage, his eyes were as crimson as his hair, and two canine fangs flashed at her as he let a torrent of curses fly her way. She wasn't sure what scared her most about him into following his order, but she scrambled to her feet and out if the way before Valen let go and the golem's fist slammed into the wall making another dent in the stonework.

The golem engaged Valen again, giving Tristin time to think up another strategy. They needed to take it down to extract the core. She remembered a length of rope she always carried with her and she scrambled to her pack to get it out. She ran to one of the pillars and found Deekin hiding behind it and shooting fireballs at the golem with a wand.

"Deekin, hope you got an entanglement spell memorized, I'm going to need you to cast one when I give the signal." She said this as she tied one end of the rope to the pillar.

"Deekin always gots tanglements memorized Tristin, helps Deekin run away better." _Fizz_ he let out another fireball with his wand.

Tristin raced across the room to another pillar and flung the other end of the rope around it. She took it in a rappelling grip and braced her feet against the pillar. She watched Valen battle with the golem, his flail swinging relentlessly as the construct threw punches with its massive arms. When the golem was almost over the length of rope, she pulled with her strength, making the rope taught and tripping the golem. It teetered precariously on one foot, but its massive weight carried it down and it fell on the floor with a resounding crash, shaking the ground in the atrium and raising a cloud of dust that accumulated over the centuries.

"Now, Deekin!" Tristin yelled and the kobold obliged with some wild arm flailing and a series of words she never understood.

Vines sprang up from the ground around the golem, grabbing it at its limbs and entangling it within their thick, leafy net. It struggled at first, but soon they coiled themselves around the construct so tight that it could no longer move.

"Valen, the core!"

The tiefling seemed to no longer notice anyone else was in the room, he was too engrossed in bashing at the fallen golem. He stopped and looked for the source of the voice when he heard Tristin. He looked at her through that mask of rage and for a moment she thought that he would come after her. Instead he tossed aside his flail and scrambled on top of the golem's back. He grabbed at the dent in the thing's back plate and tore it off with inhuman strength. His arm dove inside it and a moment later he pulled out a glowing core and crushed it in his hand, releasing the magic that powered the golem. With magic no longer sustaining it, the golem crumbled in a heap of scrap metal under Valen's feet.

He made his way out of the rubble and went to pick up his flail, when he was done he walked determinately towards Tristin. His face was no longer a mask of rage though traces of it were still showing in the wrinkles around his hard set mouth and in the corners of his eyes. And the eyes, though they no longer glowed an infernal red, still gave off a trace of his earlier fury, tinting them lavender instead of their usual blue.

"What in the nine Hells was that?" He asked looking her straight in the eye.

"I could ask you the same thing." She deflected.

"You preach caution, yet you don't exactly practice it. Were you trying to get yourself killed just now?"

And there it was, he threw her words back at her. She opened her mouth to retort, but thought better of it. She knew he was right, throwing herself on top of the golem was an incredibly stupid move on her part and she decided that swallowing her pride was a small price to pay to keep the peace between them.

"You are right, that was incredibly reckless of me. Thank you for screaming the sense back into to me back then." She meant every word she said, and her earnest response seemed to have mollified him. His features softened and he no longer looked like he had a heart to admonish her any further.

With an uneasy silence, they picked up their packs and started down the corridor again. It was probably half way down the hall that they heard the sound of metal scraping against stone behind them and so they turned to see what the commotion was. They watched as a flesh golem, the same one they saw when they first entered the tomb, dragged the discarded back plate to the heap of broken golem. Tristin realized that the hallway must double back around itself and the golem had gone around it a full circle. They watched as it deftly set the broken joints of the armor back together again, and then it opened its mouth wide and let a glowing power core roll out and drop inside the metal carapace, bringing the guardian back to life. They watched it horror as the suit of armor got to its feet and turned to look at them. It stamped its feet in a warlike manner and prepared to trample over them in the narrow hall.

"I'm not ready for round two." Tristin said as she backed away further into the hallway.

"Neither am I." She heard Valen say, and that was enough to send her running toward the door on he far end of the corridor.

She threw herself at the door and rattled its handle, but it was locked and there was no time to pick the lock.

"This way! She heard Valen to her side and saw him hold a door open around the bend of the hall.

Valen let Tristin and Deekin through the door and then slipped inside himself, closing it shut behind him and leaning in to listen to the Guardian's stampede. He heard the steady clunk-clunk-clunk of its iron feet approach and then recede as it ran past their hiding place. Relieved that the golem wasn't smart enough to check doors, he turned around to face the room.

"Don't move." He heard Tristin's strained voice behind him. "I seem to have set off a trap."


	12. Ghosts

Tristin stood inside a circle of glyphs facing an unfurnished room. The floor was littered with corpses in various stages of decomposition, some so old that they were nothing but bleached bones. The smell of decay threatened to overwhelm her senses and she involuntarily covered her nose with the back of her hand. The whole room looked like a scene of a battlefield with discarded weapons among the corpses, some still sticking out of the dead.

The glyphs began to glow a pulsating red, which increased to a flicker and then burst in a spectacular flash of white, blinding her momentarily. When the light dimmed and her eyes adjusted back to the gloom, she saw an apparition stand a few feet in front of her. There was a certain look of familiarity about it and Tristin couldn't help but wonder where she had seen the ghost before. He wore a fine heavy armor, ancient by the look of it. His face was old and covered by a well-kept beard, he had a patrician look about him.

He unsheathed his longsword and pointed it at Tristin, it was the only tangible thing about the specter. "Are you worthy to wield this weapon?" He challenged her in an otherworldly voice. "Arm yourself, and prove your worth!"

Tristin reached back for the hilt of her own weapon but her hand grabbed nothing but air. She realized then that the longsword the ghost pointed at her was Talon itself and then it dawned on her where she had seen the ghost's face before and why it was so familiar to her. She stood facing Günter Falke, her great grandfather, she was sure of it now as she had seen his likeness many times before in a portrait that hung in her father's library.

The apparition didn't wait on her to make a decision, he took a swing, forcing her to duck and take a tumble out of the way. Tristin grabbed the closest weapon within her reach as she landed back on her feet and whipped around to block another swing from Talon. Sparks flew as the sword's sharp edge connected with the metal handle of a war hammer she was now holding. She heaved forward, making the ghost take a step back, and followed up with a set of her own attacks. It was a classic set of swings and feints designed to land a blow every time, she was alarmed to see that her last swing did nothing but move air as it went effortlessly through the ghost's ethereal form. Panic threatened to overtake her momentarily, but she pushed that feeling down like Drogan always taught her.

"Hey Deeks!" She called out to the kobold as she blocked another swing from the specter. "How do you kill something that's unkillable?"

"Ooooo! A riddle, Deekin likes riddles!" She saw the kobold dig parchment and quill out of his pack and start scribbling and muttering to himself as he worked out the problem she presented to him.

She noticed Valen watching her with a look of concern on his face. He reached for his own weapon and took a step forward.

"You better not take another step tiefling! I'd hate to see what that trap conjures up out of that flail of yours!"

Valen watched her dance around the room as she deflected the ghost's attacks and followed up with her own swings. He couldn't help but appraise her movements and his weapon master training told him that she was quite a capable fighter. He looked back at the glyphs scribbled on the floor and then at his flail and decided that she was probably right, he wouldn't want to face whatever spirit possessed Devil's Bane.

"Of course!" He heard Deekin exclaim louder than he would have liked. "Yous don't kills it Tristin, yous traps it!"

A flash of inspiration crossed Tristin's mind as the kobold gave her an idea how she could defeat the ghost. It was at moments like this that she was most glad to have Deekin at her side, she could always count on him to figure a way out of a difficult situation. She renewed her attacks on the ghost, but instead of trying to hit it she focused on corralling it into the trap she had set off. She saw the glyphs light up expectantly as the apparition took a step into the circle and she knew that this was the correct course and so she pushed on cornering it inside the trap.

When the ghost was fully within the circle, the glyphs flared up a brilliant white like they did the first time and when they dimmed she saw him bend at the knee, his head hung in defeat. He held out Talon in an offering back to her. "You are worthy." He told her and as she took Talon back, he faded out of existence. She bent down to examine the now inert glyphs on the floor.

"How did you know that would work?" she heard Valen ask her.

"I lived with a mage for a few years, they always get creative with their traps." A rueful smile formed on her face as she traced a glyph with her fingers and remembered the countless times Drogan made her run through a course of his own puzzle traps. "Let's get out of here, the stench is unbearable, and I'd like to find out what's behind the locked door we had to pass by."

Valen silently agreed with her, he opened the door a crack to check that he hallway was devoid of the guardian. Finding it empty, he slipped out and motioned for Tristin and Deekin to follow him. She slipped out last and marked the door methodically with the charcoal. She was surprised to see Valen crouched by the other door working the lock like an expert burglar and her eyebrows shot up in surprise. The lock clicked and gave way, he turned the knob gently and looked up to see her surprised face. "I wasn't always a weapon master." He explained and there was a hint of smugness in his sly reply but she was glad that he allowed himself to divulge a bit about his past, it made it easier for her to work with him.

They found themselves inside a musty library. Rows of bookshelves were filled with ancient books and scrolls and covered in a film of dust. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and corners of the room and the furniture showed signs that rats had made a nest here. They decided that this was a good place to set up camp, both Valen and Tristin could use some down time to nurse the bruises from their encounter with the golem, while Deekin could scour the bookshelves for anything useful.

When they settled themselves in, Tristin went to examine the dilapidated furniture. The scratch marks and droppings confirmed that rats indeed lived here so she sat on the floor by one of the rickety armchairs with her legs crossed and called out a greeting to the rats with her mind. She didn't have long to wait as shortly after her call a portly rodent came out and twitched his nose in a greeting to her.

Valen watched her from his resting place as she whispered something to the rat and he couldn't help but strain his ears to eavesdrop on her conversation with the rat. He found it somewhat absurd, listening in on her whispers to a rodent, and he thought her to be an odd woman, talking to rats and keeping company with a kobold. He never met someone before that could communicate with animals and he thought it a quirk if not a complete waste of time. He then thought back to the way she threw herself at the guardian golem and the petrified look on her face as he screamed at her out of her stupor, he still wasn't sure what made her lose her nerve so quickly. And yet when she faced the spirit mere moments ago she was more composed and focused on her goal than many of the drow warriors he had trained. He watched her as she reached inside her pack and produced a lump of cheese, she broke off a piece and offered it to the rat. He couldn't help but scoff at her action.

"Find out anything useful or am I to assume you like to give our rations away to strange animals?" That came out more caustic than he would have liked.

She turned to look back at him with a knowing smirk on her lips. "Yes." She nodded at him and he gave her a skeptical look.

"Rats are naturally social creatures - they love to gossip, and with the right offer they will tell you anything." She went on to explain. She and tapped her temple with her index finger. "This rat was gracious enough to share a map of this place, I have the whole layout in my head now so we won't be stumbling blindly about anymore."

The expression on her face became pensive and she stared off into the distance as she seemed to study the mental image of the crypt. "This place is a lot bigger than it seems, there is a large chamber above us and a whole network of tunnels beneath, and plenty of secrets...Speaking of secrets!" Her face lit up with excitement, and she stormed past him and past the bookcases to the back of the library.

"Come help me move this case!" She called out to him.

He found her in the back trying to slide one of the bookcases along the wall. "There is a secret chamber behind this."

"Let me handle that." He told her and she obediently moved out of his way. He had no trouble moving the case and soon he saw what got her so excited in the first place. There was a door hidden behind the case, its hinges rusted over, keeping it firmly shut in place, but one good shove had it open into a tiny room. It was sparsely furnished with only a commode and a small bed covered with a moth-eaten quilt.

A small skeleton lay on the floor with a dagger sticking out among its ribs, indicating that whoever it was before, they have met a gruesome fate. A crystal lay on top of the commode; Tristin reached for it and rubbed the grime off its surface with her thumb. It caught light from a flickering torch in the library, playfully bouncing it around among its facets and then the light seemed to have jumped out from inside the crystal and landed on the floor by the skeleton and turned into an ethereal form of a dwarf.

The dwarf looked at them and blinked several times. "Hey, visitors!" He exclaimed jovially and threw his arms out wide in a welcome. "I haven't had visitors since..." he looked down to think and he saw the skeleton by his feet and his jolly nature seemed to disappear as he remembered what happened to him. "Since my master decided to stick a blade between my ribs."

He looked back up at Valen and Tristin. "Well since you're here I'm going to assume that old bastard has either finally kicked the bucket or locked himself up in that sanctuary of his for good! Tell me, have you run across a walking suit of armor and its keeper yet?"

Tristin exchanged a look with Valen, knowing that the ghost was referring to the two golems patrolling the halls. They nodded at the ghost to confirm his suspicions.

"Ha! Devious creations aren't they?" he asked, seemingly proud. "I helped create them you know! And what do I get as thanks? A death by stabbing and an eternity trapped inside that stupid crystal!"

"You knew The Maker?" Tristin asked the dwarf.

"Knew him? I was his apprentice, best one he ever had too, like that did me any good." He looked back at his remains and crossed his arms in front of his chest, grumbling something under his breath. "Tell you what, I'll tell you everything I know about this place but you got to promise me something."

He looked at Tristin expectantly, tapping his ethereal foot.

"What do you want in exchange for your knowledge?"

The dwarf looked at the crystal that Tristin still held in her hand, his eyes shining longingly. "Promise me you'll destroy my phylactery when I tell you everything there is to know, I've been trapped in that prison for centuries and I'd very much like to depart this world now."

Tris looked at the crystal she held in her hand and felt pity for the dwarf. "No one should have to endure that kind of imprisonment." She mused out loud, she then turned her gaze back on the apparition. "You have my word, we will set you free."

And so the dwarf told them everything about The Maker and his obsession with creating the perfect construct and about the horde of sentient golems that lived in the tunnels beneath these halls. He told them how they could disable the guardian golem and its custodian and how they could unlock the magically sealed door that led to the Maker's Sanctum. And when he was done Tristin had Deekin bring Starsplitter down on the crystal shattering it into a million pieces and releasing the dwarf's soul.


	13. The Maker's Children

A/N: Had a bit of a massive writer's block to get through before I was satisfied with this chapter. It's been a long time coming but I am satisfied with the end result. Would love to hear some criticism.

* * *

><p>They followed the hulking golem as it navigated the tunnels, leading them to its master. It was the same patchwork of assorted body parts as the Custodian and it smelled just as badly of rotten flesh.<p>

Valen frowned. He wasn't used to doing things the way the surface girl was doing them - slow to act, always weighing her options. The most he had hoped for when he first set foot on the island was perhaps some salvaged knowledge that could help them boost the defenses of Lyth My'Athar. As the hours wore on, he began to lose hope that this expedition would produce anything useful - they wandered the halls for hours and still had nothing to show for it.

They had found the Maker, yet when they saw that he had transformed himself into a Demilich, the girl refused to make contact with him - and she had forbidden Valen to do it on his own. She told him that she had faced a Lich once - not an encounter she wished to repeat, and that this was a far more powerful creature and anyone willing to make that transformation could not be an agent of good. He knew the power a Demilich could command of course, they were not that uncommon in Sigil, and he told her that he was not afraid of him and that he had faced creatures far more dangerous than some flying skull. She had called him a fool and he thought her a coward.

He thought it a waste to want to seek out a meeting with a golem now, when just a few hours ago in the hallways above this cavern the walking suit of armor was so intent on murdering them. They had disabled the Guardian and its keeper of course, just as the ghost had instructed them, but he didn't see reason to follow the hulking cadaver they were following now if it led to more foot dragging from the ranger.

He shook his head resignedly and reminded himself that he was doing this for the Seer's sake and he forced himself to ponder on a koan the Seer taught him to help him clear his head. _What is the nature of darkness in the absence of light?_

Lost in thought he didn't notice a familiar feeling creep in on him, a sensation of restlessness and vague discomfort. His scalp began to itch and at first he dismissed it as the demon blood reacting to his decision to be patient with the girl. But the sensation grew and spread to his limbs and he began to feel like he was burning up. He recognized the feeling, and he realized that he hadn't felt the sensation since he escaped the Abyss - his blood was calling out to the presence of an immortal in the caves. He saw Tristin tense up and reach for her sword, her gait became coiled as she readied herself for an attack.

"You feel that?" He asked her as he readied himself.

"I hear the bells." She told him and he recognized it as her unique response to the same presence he felt.

The golem, as if sensing their hesitation, turned its head and motioned for them to follow it. "Come, come." It said with a gravelly voice. "Aghaz will not hurt you, Aghaz wishes to talk."

They followed it through an archway and into a cavernous room. A gigantic throne was crudely carved into the wall on the far end of the room and on it sat a truly monstrous being. Clawed hands and feet, tattered leather wings, a body covered in scales and a head of a glabrezu all stitched together into a golem of demon flesh. It smiled at them a razor-toothed grin.

"Welcome to my home mortals." It said as it motioned around it with its clawed hand. "What has Aghaz done that you grace him with your presence?" Its voice boomed across the room.

Valen watched Tristin, she paled visibly and the hand that held her sword trembled. She replaced the sword back into its scabbard and took a step forward. He couldn't believe his ears when she explained to Aghaz that they have come to this place in search of knowledge that could help them defend their city against an attack and that they did not know that anyone still inhabited this place. He felt his anger return as he watched her negotiate with such a hateful creature. Aghaz listened to her, all the while tapping the armrest with his clawed finger. Valen watched the exchange, his confused anger barely contained behind the mask of indifference he wore on his face. What did the girl hope to accomplish by talking to demon-kind?

When she was done with her story, Aghaz leaned closer to her, a sinister smile spreading across the demon face and its eyes sparkling knowingly.

"Aghaz will give you golems to defend your city if you help Aghaz defend his." He finally said after a long silent stare. His offer surprised Valen and Tristin alike, she turned around and met Valen's silent stare.

Aghaz went on to explain how a rival sought to usurp him and steal the life-giving power source the Maker left for his children. He extolled the Maker's virtues and condemned the usurper's vices, which he named as Ferron. He was eloquent, and over the course of his speech it was revealed that he was a priest in charge of the Cult of the Maker.

It surprised Valen even more when the girl agreed to the golem's offer; perhaps she finally saw that they needed to take something back to Lyth My'Athar to proclaim this mission a success. He still had his reservations about bargaining with demon-kind - the gods knew the hefty price he paid for that mistake once – but he followed Tristin back into the tunnels nonetheless to find this Ferron and when they were far away from the golem's throne room he finally voiced his doubts.

"Do you think it's wise to accept an offer from that creature?" He asked her. His anger was simmering just below the surface, he didn't understand the grounds for her decision and he was trying to comprehend.

Tristin turned around to look at him, her complexion still pallid and her hands still trembling. "Somewhere in the Abyss a demon is missing its head." She told him. "Do you see now why this Maker is an agent of evil? That thing..." She pointed back to where they had come from, "It's an abomination and I don't trust it to uphold its end of the bargain."

She was indignant and Valen realized that her hands trembled not from fear but from anger.

"What do you plan on doing then?" He asked her.

"If this Ferron turns out to be anything like Aghaz, I have a mind to destroy them both." She told him, determined.

He threw back his head and let out a mirthless laugh, so far she had proven loath to engage in much combat and the idea that she could defeat a demon flesh golem struck him as absurd considering their earlier run in with the Guardian. She gave him a stern look in reply. "If the Valsharess finds this place and strikes the same bargain with - _that thing_ - then we'd lose our advantage, however small it is. I'd rather risk my life destroying this place than have her greedy hands on a golem army."

The crooked smirk was gone from Valen's face, he leaned in real close looking her directly in the eye. "I hope you have a battle plan if it comes to that." He told her.

He was provoking Tris and she knew it. It was the same accusatory stare she received by the docks before they departed from Lyth My'Athar. "Yea." She told him as she gave him a meaningful inspection. "You've been itching for a fight since we got here and you seem capable, I might just send you in to deal with them."

She turned around and kept walking and as she heard a growl of frustration in retort she knew she hit a nerve.

Ferron was nothing like Aghaz. A construct, beautifully crafted out of bronze, he spoke in a calm metallic voice that appealed to their sense of reason and told them that the words he spoke were honest truth, and when he was done with his side of the story it was clear that he would make a better ally.

Tristin offered to help Ferron and his followers obtain the power source that Aghaz guarded and the promise of freedom that it carried and Ferron agreed, only to the same terms that Aghaz offered. He refused to lead the attack on his rival, they were still brothers he told her, no matter how different, for they were created by the same hand of the maker and he could not lift his hand to strike his brethren for that would go against his nature. And so the task of destroying Aghaz and his followers fell to Valen, Tristin and her most loyal kobold companion.

They found themselves back at the entrance leading to Aghaz's lair. Tris peered through the archway and she could feel Aghaz and his followers peering back at her. The bells in her mind were ringing a steady beat and she wondered if Aghaz knew of the deal she struck with Ferron. She quickly looked back at Valen and Deekin and met their expectant gaze and she gave them a nod in confirmation to carry out their plan of attack. She had laid out her plan on the way back to the lair - the majority of which incidentally did involve Valen charging in first – and they accepted it as a solid tactic. Tristin would focus on Aghaz's followers while Valen would engage the demon-flesh golem, Deekin would fill in the supportive role with every defensive spell at his disposal.

Valen strode past her a ways into the arched tunnel. He unslung his flail from its holster and rolled his shoulders, he gave Tristin a final glance letting her know that he was ready. She unsheathed Talon and followed him in. He took a couple of steps, slow at first, but then he picked up his pace, launching himself into a charge. Aghaz met him standing, his tattered wings extended fully and his clawed arms extended in a waiting embrace. With a warrior's roar, he vaulted himself at the monstrous golem, covering the final short distance between them, his flail firmly gripped in his hands and extended in an overhead strike.

Tristin was close behind Valen and as Aghaz's followers closed in on them to cut off their charge, she weaved and dodged among their hulking forms, swinging talon with deadly grace. She felt her reflexes quicken, a telltale sign that Deekin had cast Haste on them. Thick leafy vines sprang up out of the ground, wrapping themselves tightly around the golems, giving Tris and Valen a bigger advantage. The cavern flashed in a spectacular display of magic as Deekin exhausted his repertoire of offensive spells on the immobilized golems.

The fight was short but chaotic and when the dust settled and the last echoes of Deekin's spells dissipated, they stood victorious in a macabre display of rotten flesh that now littered this room. Valen stood over Aghaz and watched as the demon parts burnt out of existence and returned back to the place they had come from. He saw Tris walk over behind the stone throne and reach inside a hidden cubby to pull out the power source that Ferron sought.

When they finally emerged back to the surface of the subterranean cairn, Valen felt satisfied with the way things had turned out. The most he had hoped for when he first set foot on the Maker's Island was perhaps some salvaged knowledge that could help them boost the defenses of Lyth My'Athar. He never expected to find allies on a hunk of rock that sat empty for centuries, yet when he walked past the deurgar camp towards the shore with a platoon of masterfully crafted bronze golems he felt a great amount satisfaction when he saw the incredulous looks the dark dwarves had given them when they emerged alive from the tomb.

He was pleased with the ranger's decision to help Ferron, it felt right and he was glad that they did not enter a pact with demon-kind. He still remembered the killing blow he delivered to Aghaz and even though he knew that the creature was never truly dead, he felt better knowing that he sent it back to the Abyss and that it could not pass the planar gates into Toril for at least one hundred years. He looked over at Tristin, who was now directing their metal-clad allies onto Cavalas's Ferry. She turned out to be a shrewd tactician and she was a capable swordsman. He felt a slight pang of shame for mistaking her caution for cowardice but the feeling was quickly replaced with newfound respect for his ally. He set foot onto the ferry with surprising lightness to his step and he savored the notion that their return to Lith My'Athar was for once victorious.


	14. Shaori's Fell

**A/N - Surprise! It's an update!**

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><p>Shaori's Fell was a strange place. Cavallas had told them that the island they were visiting was by all accounts unremarkably empty except for a settlement that sprang up very suddenly a few weeks ago. When they got to the island, they ran into a band of drow, a skirmish erupted quickly but the drow were able to escape into the shadows without much bloodshed. Tris agreed with Valen that the dark elves were here most likely for the same reason as they were and knowing that the Valsharess's forces were lurking in the shadows warranted extra caution.<p>

As soon as they had met the new tenants of the island Tris knew immediately that something wrong and unnatural had happened to them. They were Avariel, except they acted nothing like the winged elves that populated the highest peaks of Toril's mountains. They found their queen inside a dank grotto, uncaring for her subjects and content with sulking about her miserable existence. The whole town was a depressing sight to walk through. They were met with indifference and apathy, the poor creatures lived in squalid hovels and when Tris tried to question them about how they ended up in Underdark, she never received a straight answer.

The crippled jester they found residing in the queen's old chambers was the only voice of reason in the place. His somber account of how his people ended up on this lonely island, beneath Toril's surface, put all the puzzle pieces together for Tris. This is what he told them.

"It was folly to believe that we were incorruptible against the lure of magic we had little understanding of." The jester began his tale as he looked at Tris with deep sorrow in his eyes. "Shaori, our queen, saved a traveling merchant one day from nature's elements after he was ambushed and robbed by a band of brigands. He was left for dead in a mountain pass near our settlement and she chanced upon him during one of her excursions through her domain. In return for her kindness she was gifted with a magical artefact, one of the few things the merchant was able to keep hidden on him from the highwaymen. It was a scrying mirror and it allowed her to look in on all her subjects. No personal achievement went unnoticed, no private sorrow unshared with our queen. For a time we were...happy. But that was not enough."

There was a long pause as the jester recalled the tragic events in his mind.

"The mirror - it spoke to her, it wanted to show her more. It showed her secrets, rivals, enemies plotting against her. Shaori eliminated her adversaries with lightning strike swiftness and we followed her, fought for her, believed in her righteousness. There was not an adversary that could withstand our might, but it was only a matter of time before we would meet a power we could not defeat. One day the mirror showed Shaori a mage of great power and it showed her his laboratory with...test subjects...and creatures he held captive. We made a choice to march on his stronghold and destroy his vile experiments, but his grasp on magic was too strong even for our Queen. He saw her spying on him and so he used the mirror's magic against her. It hurled our people from our lofty palaces in the highest peaks of Toril's mountains to this dark cave and the mage told our Queen that this was our punishment for sticking our noses into places they do not belong. He told her that he used the mirror's magic to show us what we have become. Shaori, overcome with rage smashed the mirror into pieces and so we lost all hope of ever returning home, what you have witnessed here is the mirror's magic at work."

A mage, laboratory, test subjects. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of Tristin's stomach.

"The mage - what was his name?" She asked, though she knew she wasn't going to like the answer.

"Halaster."

The name conjured up all kinds of unpleasant thoughts in Tristin's mind but the Geas quickly reminded her that he was still in control of her fate.

There was a fleeting look of surprise and then understanding on the jester's face as he witnessed Tristin's recognition of the name. Suddenly everything made sense to him, and he rushed at Tristin on his wobbly legs, as if he was afraid that she would disappear, along with his salvation.

"Help me, traveler, to repair the mirror." He implored her as he grabbed a hold of her arm, afraid of letting go. "Help my people return home."

"What would you have me do?" She asked as the cripple accosted her. "And what do we get in return? The drow are waging civil war, and the rebel settlement I hail from desperately needs allies. My time is precious and I cannot help you without a promise of help in return."

"Drow?" There was a slight tremor in the jester's voice at the mention of the dark elves. "Civil war? Rebels?" He looked at Tris, then Valen, Deekin, and then back at her again and his eyes widened with realization.

"Of course traveler. Our Queen is generous; I promise you that she will reward you greatly."

And so they went back to the miserable town to hunt down the mirror shards. It helped that the Jester had one piece and after a good amount of cajoling, outwitting and even fighting the town residents to relieve them of the shards in their possession the trio finally headed back for the Queen's old chambers.

Somewhere in the back of her mind Tristin knew that the drow that attacked them on the beach would be back and she wasn't surprised to find that the jester wasn't alone when they returned. He lay sprawled at the base of the throne, whimpering and trying to staunch the flow of blood from his broken nose. A drow woman lounged on the throne itself, one leg hanging over an armrest, swinging about lazily. She held a dagger in her hands which she used to pick the dirt out of her long finger nails.

Tris recognized the woman as the priestess that led drow they ran into on the island's beachhead. Tris recalled her name, one of her companions called her Sabal.

Sabal looked up at them, a satisfied grin spreading across her face.

"This was too easy." She purred. "I let you do all the work and you deliver."

Suddenly the smirk was gone from her face and she flung out her arm, pointing the dagger at them. "The shards - hand them over."

Tris considered her demand. The woman was completely at ease and completely exposed, the way she lounged on the throne. She knew that the kind of confidence the woman exuded only meant that she wasn't alone and that any number of her companions could be hiding in the shadows.

There wasn't much place to hide in the throne room, except for the giant round pillars that lined its walls - this was probably where the other drow waited. Tris realized that her own party was at a big disadvantage as they all stood completely exposed in the middle of the room. She didn't like the odds and in order to increase their chance for survival she needed to know how many they were truly facing. Her mind was racing as she tried to think up a strategy to make Sabal reveal her hand and she saw Valen reach for his flail as he prepared for a fight.

An idea suddenly came to her. She reached for a pouch hanging from her belt. She recalled purchasing a few flash bombs in Lith My'Athar market before they set out for this island. Nathyrra mentioned that they were useful to gain the upper hand quickly against the drow since the dark elves were especially sensitive to bright light.

"Very well, you win." She said as she held it out in front of her.

"What are you doing!" she heard Valen growl and she saw that dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Trust me." She hissed back at him, "And cover your eyes."

She hoped that he caught her meaning as she put the pouch on the floor and slid it across the throne room with her foot towards Sabal. It stopped at the drow's feet, the cover flap sliding open as several orbs the size of marbles rolled out. Tris only had a moment to shield her own eyes as they disintegrated in a spectacular fashion, flooding the throne room with daylight.

The trick had the desired effect that Tris hoped for, leaving Sabal and her hidden allies momentarily blind. She saw several of the would-be attackers stumbling out from their hiding places disoriented and pawing at their eyes. She didn't waste any time and took out three of them with her bow and arrows.

She saw Valen recover from the initial daze and rush at the two drow to their right. The effects of the flash bombs were beginning to wear off as the drow drew their own weapons. Deekin, confused by what had just happened struck up a confusing tune, adding to the general chaos that erupted around them.

Sabal, still blinded as she was closest to the explosion, lashed out angrily at the empty air around her screaming obscenities and promising a very violent death for Tris. She paid her no mind however, as she still had to deal with four remaining assailants.

When none but Sabal remained alive Tris turned her attention on her and it looked like she had just regained her own senses. Seeing that she was the only one to remain alive, she panicked and began to cast a spell. Tris rushed at the woman but she wasn't close enough so before the woman could finish her chant, Tris swung her longsword overhead and launched it at her. The weapon flew through the air and then embedded itself in Sabal's chest with a dull thud. She looked surprised at first to see the longsword sticking out of her but then her face kind of twisted in a silent grimace of pain and she fell on her knees and keeled over, dead as the rest of the drow.

The flash bombs worked incredibly well and Tris made a note to buy more from the mage that sold them at the market in Lyth My'Athar. She yanked Talon out of Sabal's prone body and turned to her companions, pleased with herself.

Valen on the other hand was still fuming. "I could have killed you. If that pouch contained the mirror shards, I could have ended you!"

"Oh for the love of..." She threw up her arms in frustration at his dogged insistence on being difficult. "You don't get it, do you? I can't betray you even if I wanted to! Halaster has a Geas on me and no matter what I do, I have this drive, this compulsion to do whatever it takes to kill the Valsharess! So don't worry Valen, your precious rebellion is safe from me because I don't even have the will to choose not to help you!"

He only growled in response and stormed out of the throne room. She let out a sigh of frustration, it seemed like the tiefling was determined to make it difficult for her.

She remembered then why she was here in the first place and walked up to the jester who was now quivering behind the throne.

"It's over." She told him "I have all the shards, let's put your people back together again."

The jester nodded in silent agreement and took out the mirror frame that he was holding onto and placed it on the floor in front of him. Tris took the shards out of her satchel and fit them together into the frame. The seams along the cracks shimmered as the mirror's magic stitched it together into a single piece of glass. Then, one by one, all the denizens of Shaori's Fell began appearing in the throne room. They were different in their appearance, their wings were no longer tattered but full of pure white feathers and they no longer wore rags but resplendent silks and shimmering armor. The queen was last to appear and she was no longer a sullen hag but the most beautiful creature that Tris has ever seen.

Shaori smiled a beatific smile. "I suppose we have you to thank for breaking the curse. Tell me, how can I repay you for your kindness?"

Tris bowed deeply. "Your highness, I hail from Lyth My'Athar. The drow are waging civil war and the rebellion against the dark forces of Lolth is in desperate need of allies. I beseech you, lend us your forces and help the rebels win this war."

Shaori frowned in disappointment and shook her head. "Your cause is noble, though I cannot do what you ask of me. Too long I have led my people in a crusade against evil." She picked up the mirror, glancing at her reflection. "This magic mirror has shown me unimaginable wrongs that I yearned to right, but in the end, I have forgotten to look at my own reflection and see that I too have turned my people into a force of oppression. It is time that we return to our homeland and reflect on our actions. But you have not been corrupted by magic, please take the mirror," she pressed the mirror into Tristin's hands, "I know that in the right hands it has the capacity to shine light on darkness and perhaps it will help you in your cause."

After, the Avariel queen summoned powerful magics, whisking her people and dwellings back to the highest mountain peaks of Toril, leaving Tristin and Deekin standing in the middle of a deserted plateau of a nameless island in the Underdark. She remembered looking at the jester in hope that he would interject but he too has changed. Still a cripple, he no longer held the look of ponderous intelligence but instead gave her an empty glassy-eyed stare of someone who was born ab idiot.

Dejected, Tristin stuffed the magic mirror into her pack and headed back to the beach. She found Valen on the same rocky beach where Cavallas left them, rubbing an oilcloth over the heads of his flail.

"Would you have come if Halaster hadn't placed the geas on you?" He asked without looking up. He no longer sounded angry.

"I'm just one woman Valen, there are days when I amaze myself if I can dress myself in the mornings and yet your Seer expects me to perform a miracle."

She bent down and picked up a flat pebble, she flung it at the water and watched it skip twice before it sunk into the lake. "In truth I would have told the Harpers about your plight, they are far better trained in conducting revolutions."

"For what it's worth, I know what it's like not having a choice." He said suddenly. "I was a slave to a demon once and for a long time I knew nothing beyond carnage. This was before I met the Seer; I still struggle at times to control it."

Tris understood at that moment that they have reached an understanding. She walked up to him and extended her hand.

"Truce?"

"Truce."

He took her hand in a firm grip and shook it looking directly into her eyes.

She sat on the pebbly beach next to him and for a few moments they sat in silence, interrupted only by Deekin's scribbling in his notebook. Tristin reached back into her pack and took the mirror out. It looked like an ordinary looking glass, she ran her fingers across its surface, where she remembered the shards to have fused seamlessly into one piece and she could feel the magic faintly, a tingling sensation on her fingertips that set her teeth on edge.

"I take it the winged elves weren't too keen on helping us after all." Valen said after a protracted silence. "You've got the mirror repaired, at least that's something."

She quickly wrapped it up in a cloth and stuffed it back inside her pack, something about it made her uneasy.

"It's useless." She shook her head.

He glanced at her questioningly.

"My nan used to tell me bedtime stories when I was a child. One of those stories was about a powerful sorceress who had a scrying mirror very similar to this one. Nan used to say how the sorceress always asked the mirror the same question. 'Who is the most powerful sorceress in the world?' and the mirror would always show the sorceress her own reflection. One day the mirror showed the sorceress an image of her daughter and that made her very upset. Jealous of her daughter's power and wanting to be number one, she devised a plan to have a ranger take her daughter into the woods and kill her. Unknown to her, the ranger was in love with the girl so when he came back to the sorceress to tell her the deed was done, she turned to the mirror to ask the same question and the mirror still showed her an image of her daughter. The ranger never killed the girl, instead, as the sorceress had her back on him, he took his knife and slit her throat. The mirror didn't lie, Valen. It showed the sorceress the answer to her question but she failed to see the real truth behind it. The same thing happened to the Avariel. Magic like that is dangerous, it makes us complacent. Besides, what use is a magic mirror to a blind Seer?"

"Hm. Perhaps you're right, all the same it's probably best that we have it and not the Valsharess."


End file.
